Beyond
by Catmoongirl
Summary: Mello knew from the minute that smoke bomb went off that he'd never be able to see another sun rise and set, that he'd never be able to wake up with the smell of cigarette smoke cradling him to the one thing that held any lasting value in his world.
1. Hot

A/N: So, I wrote this because I wanted to see a happy ending for Matt and Mello. But, mostly, I just wanted to see what the two would think and do if they were "present" after Takada's kidnapping. I'm not good with author's notes, because I like my work to speak for itself, but I figure I could give a little info to make this piece more comprehensible. Mello and Matt are both dead in this story. _Where_ they are and why they are there is really up for interpretation by the reader. I just figured that the two of them wouldn't be able to move on until they saw Kira defeated, so I came up with this story to do just that. Paragraphs in italics are memories and flashbacks. **This is not a one-shot!** It is a two part piece that is just very long, but I didn't want to split it into more than two chapters, considering the themes that encompass both parts. I worked quite hard on this and this is actually my first piece with anything even resembling a lemon. That and the language is what the M rating is for. I really, really enjoyed writing this. It helped me get through a very troubling and stressful period. I hope the rest of you enjoy it as well. And, if you want to set a mood while you are reading it, I was inspired by the song Somedays by Regina Spektor, so try listening to that if you got it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. If I did, this is what would have been shown. Unfortunately for me, it belongs to Ohba and Obata.

Reviews are greatly appreciated and absolutely loved!

* * *

Part I - Hot.

_It's hot._

The air was stifling and thick, there was smoke and ash in his lungs. He was burning alive. No, he was burning dead.

He couldn't breath. He didn't _have _to.

He was dead now. It was all over. He would have loved to have said that he held a small sliver of hope that the bitch would be merciful, or weak, or scared, something that would keep her from writing his name upon that scrap. But he wasn't number two for nothing. He knew from the minute that smoke bomb went off that he'd never be able to see another sun rise and set, that he'd never be able to wake up with the smell of cigarette smoke cradling him to the one thing that held any lasting value in the world, that he'd never enjoy another bar of chocolate ever again.

But what would it matter?

He'd be dead. It wasn't like he'd be able to feel regret or sadness either.

So what was it that made his heart pound in his chest at the sheer thought that his time was quickly running out? What compelled those hot tears to pour from his eyes the night before?

It was the nothingness, the dark abyss that scared him to the very core (though he'd never admit it).

He knew everything, could figure out everything, solve anything at all...

Except death.

Would it hurt? Would it really be the end?

He had lived his life worshipping God, he should have been confident. But he wasn't. He was terrified. Terrified that, if there was indeed something beyond death, he would be sentenced to Hell for the awful crimes he'd committed in the name of justice...

Not to mention the single crime of passion that he really had no excuse for to spare him from eternal damnation.

_"If there is a God, then I have nothing to worry about." Cigarette smoke rolled above their heads, languidly, mocking their frantic attempt to cling to life. "After all, you're basically set for Heaven. You might be one serious motherfucker" - Mello elbowed the man at this statement - "but I don't know of anyone who's done so much horrible shit for such a _good _reason. And in Heaven, you get everything you ever wanted, right? It's supposed to be perfect, right?"_

_Mello nodded slowly. He wished Matt would lie down next to him again. He suddenly felt very cold. _

_Matt grinned deviously. "Well then, there you go. I have nothing to worry about."_

_"Why is that?"_

Mello watched as the bright flames licked at the decrepit walls and rotting foundation. His eyes felt heavy. He wasn't sure what he was doing here, how he'd gotten here, when he'd walked out of the truck and outside the church, when he started watching his own cremation.

The heat from the blaze was immense. It was pressing down heavily on his already weary body. His limbs felt heavy as if he'd just awoken from a very long, but all too short, nap.

_Red hair mixed with gold on pillows made off-white by a lack of laundering. The bed creaked in time to heavy breaths, set by the metronome of thrusting hips and searching hands. Those perfect, full lips leaned down and traced over the edge of the expansive scar. _

_"Matt," the blond gasped, fingers pressing deeply into the strong shoulders above him. His back arched upwards when Matt picked up the pace of his thrusts, moving his mouth down to Mello's neck. "Haaah..._harder_..."_

_He heard Matt chuckle into his ear. "Are you begging me?" _

Those tears were falling again. He suddenly realized that the last 48 hours seemed to be filled with nothing but fucking and crying.

Oh, and dying, too.

Was that really all his life had been? Sex, suffering, and death?

_It's hot_.

His tears were hot on his cheeks, sliding down his neck, smeared across his arm, searing, scalding, _burning_ his skin.

The sensation felt all too familiar.

It felt like failure.

"Can't get much worse. Don't think you can have a bigger failure than this," he muttered, feeling as if he would collapse at any moment. He suddenly felt drained of all energy, felt barely alive.

Or maybe it was hardly dead.

_He felt ashamed. He felt guilty. _

_Because the first time he and Matt had made love, yes, really made love, he had been murmuring prayers over and over in his head, pleading with the Lord to show the two of them some mercy, especially Matt, who thought of God as nothing more than a ridiculous fairy tale. While he was groaning into Matt's neck, he was reciting Hail Mary's. While he was pumping Matt furiously, he was repeating the Lord's Prayer. And when the two of them came together, moaning loudly at the top of their lungs, despite the apartments thin walls, he was singing hymnals and shouting out for salvation. The cum on his stomach felt like a giant letter F, for faggot, and the sweat on Matt's brow seemed to make the letter C..._

_For condemned._

His knees gave out. It wasn't surprising. He wanted to move, to get somewhere cooler, somewhere his lungs wouldn't burn from the irritating smoke and red-hot embers in the air. But he felt frozen to the spot, unable to take his eyes off of what was now his grave.

"Whoa, there," someone murmured into his ear as he began to fall.

There were arms around him now, lowering him steadily to the ground until he could sit, legs splayed out in front of him. Or maybe it was someone who was retrieving his corpse. Even now he couldn't distinguish between his slowly burning, lifeless body and...whatever he was now.

Oddly enough, the smell of cigarettes was easily identifiable amidst the smoky air.

"Are you sure you wanna be here?"

Slowly, Mello blinked, turning his head up as his gloved fingers traced across the arms that ensnared him.

_"Sorry," was his curt reply. He knew he was about to cry, but there was no reason to break down without a fight. _

_Matt didn't hide his annoyance. He ran his fingers through his hair again and again and again until Mello thought he'd start ripping it out. He could tell the gamer wanted a smoke - _desperately_. Still, he resisted, knowing it would only hinder the bridge of communication between the two of them. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" _

_Mello rolled away from him now. Matt claimed he was only trying to make things better, and here he was getting pissed at him. The blond failed to see how this was making things any better. "Dunno," he said tersely, showing his obvious distaste for Matt's attitude. "I guess I just didn't think it'd bother me again."_

_Matt was silent for a few minutes and Mello felt his irritation growing. He kept toeing that line that told him to just get out of bed and fucking leave. Before he could cross that line, though, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm sorry I got upset," Matt whispered to him, laying down and pressing himself against Mello's back. "But don't lie to me..._please_."_

_Still pouting, Mello rolled back over to face the redhead. _

_He was smiling warmly at him, his hand stroking the side of his face tenderly, fingers playing with stray blond strands. _

_How could he be so fucking calm?! How the hell could he not be worried about anything?! How could he be so goddamn _content_ with all this fucking filth and sin?!_

_"I suppose it won't do much good if I just tell you that you shouldn't be worried." It was as if Matt had read his mind._

_Mello scowled. "No, it wouldn't," he snapped._

_"So, does your God just not want you to love?"_

_Mello was slightly taken aback by the question. "No..." he replied slowly, blushing deeply. _

_Matt began to caress his cheeks, amused by the color that had risen there. "Since you're the expert, maybe you can answer a real question for me." Mello watched Matt as his hand slid down his neck, back to his ear, into his hair. "Is it a sin to love honestly or to live dishonestly?"_

_Mello bit his lip. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. He gripped the back of Matt's neck tightly. They had never outright stated that they loved each other. The fact that neither of them was tied to the headboard was enough to confirm it, though. _

_Or at least, it should have been. But he suddenly wanted to make it real, as if it would convince God to forgive them. _

_"Say it," Mello choked. _

_Matt moved his head to Mello's ear and gave him a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. "I love you."_

"I don't have anywhere else to be," he said, his face pressing into those familiar stripes. He glanced upwards. "For Christ's sake, take those stupid things _off_. The one time you manage to get on TV and you look like a fucking twelve year old." He was a bit happy when the redhead ignored him. Instead of removing the orange goggles, he took his gloves off, shoving them into his coat pocket.

"Wow, I would have expected the first thing you said to be 'I told you so.'"

Mello couldn't help the grin that sprang onto his lips. "Glad we went to confessional?"

"Eh," was the grunted reply. "Hey, look at this." Matt raised his hand in front of Mello's face. There was a small, bullet-sized hole in his palm. "They got me through the hand, the bastards."

Mello shoved the hand away, disgustedly. "Don't show me those things, idiot!" He suddenly felt like he'd puke.

"I think it's my punishment," Matt insisted. "That's what I was told."

Mello looked up at his partner curiously. "By whom?"

The stripes shifted as the thin shoulders shrugged. "I dunno. Someone..."

_It's hot_.

Mello gasped, his mouth feeling parched and dry. "Can we go somewhere else? I wanna leave now." He could hear cars approaching. He didn't want to be around when she got there.

He protested when Matt tried to scoop him up into his arms. He wanted to walk by himself, but found that his body was still tired, still worn. So he begrudgingly allowed Matt to carry him on his back.

It wasn't so bad, at least he got to bury his face in that lovely auburn hair. No one saw them as cars zipped by. No one _could_. They were dead after all.

_They said it every time they could. Whenever they could. Surprisingly, Mello said it more than Matt. To Matt, it was because Mello always had to be the best at everything, the best at Mario Kart, the best at fucking, the best at loving. To Mello, it was because each time never felt like enough, like every wrong he'd ever committed against Matt, God, and the world would never be forgiven with those three little words. _

_So, he tried the only thing he knew to. _

_Confessional. _

_Matt went along, but not very willingly. He said it was only because he wanted to be able to fuck Mello again without having to hear him plead for forgiveness, but honestly, he'd done it because he knew it'd make the bastard smile, make him happy, maybe even make him _enjoy_ the sex. Because, frankly, neither of them were enjoying it much right now. _

_"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned," Matt recited awkwardly as his eyes darted nervously to the screen separating him from a man who had no right to judge him. _

_"What are these sins, my child?" the man responded. _

_Matt blushed, his hands wringing together in his lap. He had expected some harsh, judgmental tone from the priest. If anything, it was inviting, welcoming. _

_This was getting weird._

_"I'm fucking my best friend," he said bluntly._

_"Do you love this person, my child?" the priest asked, seemingly undisturbed by the crude language._

_"More than anything," Matt answered, grinning stupidly. "I'd die for him, and I'm not a very dramatic person."_

_The priest paused. "Why do you feel you have sinned, my son?"_

_Matt let out a bark of laughter, leaning back lazily in the uncomfortable wooden chair. "God hates faggots."_

_That really got the silence going. Matt wondered what kind of relief Mello found at this sort of thing, because it wasn't bringing any to the red head._

_"If you love this man, my son, then God will offer up forgiveness. Love saves all, lust condemns them." Matt suddenly straightened at the man's words. "Take care of one another, pray for one another, and have faith in the Lord, and you shall be cleansed."_

_He gave a relieved laugh, weak and feeble, but relieved nonetheless. He leaned close to the screen. "Can you tell that to my friend when he comes in here? He's the one who's worried he'll be damned forever for this..." _

They walked all the way back to the city. Matt didn't seem tired at all. Maybe it was because he'd just been shot to death, and hadn't had his heart fail on him like Mello. He carried Mello for hours. The sun had just begun to rise when they left, and it was high in the sky by the time they made it back to the city. They weren't really sure where they were going. Home, maybe. What they'd do when they got there...well, they'd just have to play it by ear. Hell, Mello wasn't even completely sure how much longer they'd be like this. After all, they didn't see many other dead people on their way. It wasn't like the Sixth Sense, at all. Maybe this was purgatory and the two were paying off their penance. "What took you?" Mello asked quietly as he nuzzled Matt's hair with his nose. "It took you long enough to find me..."

Matt looked back over his shoulder. He was panting a little now. "I did the same thing as you. I watched 'em scrape me off the pavement."

Mello frowned. "Matt, stop..."

The redhead smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I'm just feeling pretty confident, considering."

Mello didn't reply, but he knew exactly what Matt was talking about. Suddenly, all that fear he'd kept bottled up seemed silly, stupid, pointless.

Mello squinted as he looked up into the winter sun. It didn't feel like January at all. It was comfortable, warm, every movement or sound seemed gentle.

One of his fingers ran over Matt's lower lip. Matt made a small noise and kissed the digit lightly.

"Sorry, again..." Mello murmured.

The redhead hiked Mello up farther on his back. "If you keep saying that, I won't come with you until you promise to grow up."

_It's hot_.

He didn't realize his hands were clutching Matt. "You have to let me apologize for that."

Matt sighed and stopped in front of their apartment building. "Yeah, I suppose you do owe me for that one."

_Matt's unlit cigarette flew across the room, having only spent mere moments between the redhead's lips before the vicious blow landed on his mouth. Small drops of blood splattered across the floor. Okay, not so small._

_Mello watched as the redhead used the coffee table to get to his feet and stand up. His hand was pressed to his mouth; a small trickle of thick crimson oozed between his fingers. He gave Mello a look of absolute loathing._

_"So, what's got your panties in a bunch now?" he spat as the blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. _

_"Where the fuck were you yesterday?!" Mello shrieked, grabbing Matt by the collar. "I told you to fucking be here!" He shook the boy furiously at his words. There was blood on his gloves where his knuckles had made impact with the redhead's lips. _

_Matt scoffed, smirking coldly. "I had somewhere better to be. Lord knows this shit isn't worth the sex you can dish out."_

_Matt's head snapped back as Mello lashed out once more. He fell to the floor with a groan of pain. _

_Ungrateful, smug, worthless. He hadn't even _bathed_ yet. Little fucker took his mercy for granted. _

_The rage in his chest burned like an unholy inferno, blazing higher and higher. There was nothing Matt could do to stop it now. He just had to let it burn out._

_Burn and consume the both of them before dying into a smoldering pile of ash. _

_The redhead knocked the lamp off the end table as he stumbled to get back to his feet. Blood dripped from his split lip. He gave a disgusting hack and more of it spurted onto the couch cushions and a large glob of the stuff fell to the floor. _

_"You're a fucking bitch, Mello."_

_Matt never got to his feet. Mello pistol whipped him and knocked him to the floor again. _

_It fucking hurt, the pain was spreading through his entire head. He couldn't even think anymore. He refused to make a sound as Mello used the toe of his boot to roll him onto his back and place his foot heavily on his chest. He choked back a cry of pain as his heel dug purposefully into his ribs, feeling the cold metal barrel of Mello's gun pressing into his forehead. _

_"If this isn't worth it to you," the blond hissed above him, his already disfigured face looking even more grotesque when it was contorted in rage. "Then get the fuck out and don't fucking come back." He hit the redhead across the face again when he opened his mouth to speak. "I own you, you fucking dog. Or have you forgotten that?"_

_"Go to hell." Blood bubbled and squirted from his lips, making his words warble in his throat. _

_There was the all too familiar jingling of handcuffs. Where the fuck did Mello find these things? "My, my, it seems you _have_ forgotten." There was a dangerous glee in Mello's tone. "It seems you'll have to be taught a lesson." _

Matt rubbed his wrists absentmindedly as the two of them slowly walked through the trashy apartment. Mello kicked at a rotting table in one of the corners of the room with a humorless laugh. "Guess we didn't have too much to come back for, even if we'd made it out alive."

Matt grinned stupidly and finally took his goggles off, placing them atop his head. "I dunno, it's kinda cozy," he joked. "I mean, we've had plenty of good times here, you know?"

His arms crossed over his chest, the blond continued to look at all the things they'd left behind: torn wallpaper, an unmade bed covered in sweat and drool and the remnants of frenzied sex, broken tables and chairs, dirty clothes littering the floor. Was this what he was going to miss so badly? A crappy apartment that always smelled funny, was never warm enough, constantly filled with the useless hum of computers? "I think I liked LA more."

He heard the refrigerator open. "Think we can eat this stuff?" he heard Matt ask. "I dunno why, but I'm starving."

"I don't know," Mello responded apathetically. "Why don't you find out?" He sat down hesitantly on their bed, running his hands over the sheets.

What would happen tomorrow when the rent was due? Would the landlord wonder what had become of them, why they had left all their things here? Would he recognize them on the television?

Or maybe he wouldn't think twice about them, just throw all of their things out and rent the damn place out again, though Mello couldn't fathom anyone who would actually _want_ to live here. They only rented the place out to save money, so they could buy all the things they ever wanted to before they were finally gone. People always told you that you couldn't take it with you, but Mello would bet that he could probably turn on that brand new Wii next to the TV and play it as long as he wanted.

He _didn't_ want to though.

Something didn't feel right about it. Something about doing anything other than being here with Matt felt... trivial, as if he had something far more pressing to attend to.

He just couldn't figure out what it was.

Laying back down on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, riddled with water damage, he clutched his rosary in his hand.

It felt so abrupt, all of this. He felt as if he'd just fallen out of a plane, without a parachute, knowing full well he would die when he reached the ground. Then, the moment his body made impact, he suddenly awoke, realizing it was all just a dream.

Maybe this _was _a dream.

Maybe he was living in his last moment alive and in the next second he would _really_ be dead.

He gasped softly as Matt suddenly crawled over him on the bed, sliding his arms around Mello's neck. Matt turned his head to the side and placed his lips to his ear. He didn't nibble, didn't kiss, just let them rest there, content and happy. "Maybe we're supposed to wait...until the 28th?" Matt always seemed to know what he was thinking. Warm, tender lips moved against the fleshy lobe as the redhead spoke.

Mello smiled slightly and put his arms around his friend. He was sliding the man's jacket off, making those little movements with his feet against Matt's ankles that said he wanted to do something other than just lay there.

Matt grinned. "Geez, wouldn't it be an affront to God to have sex like this?"

"Shut up, Matt."

_They had met, inadvertently, only a year or so after he'd left Wammy's. It was one of the more awkward moments of their lives. Matt had thought Mello was a hooker at first, even offered him money in exchange for a "good time". He barely recognized him, decked out in tight leather pants and hanging out in one of the more dangerous parts of LA. It was quite a change from the frail boy he knew at the orphanage, who always wore shirts that seemed two sizes too big for him and pants that were so long, he nearly tripped on the bottoms of the legs. Mello never tripped though; he was far too graceful for those types of things. _

_He needed a place to stay, or at least, that was what he told Matt. _

_Maybe he just wanted to be near him. Either way, Matt wasn't about to reject. _

_So they spent the first year and a half together, hacking government databases, keeping tabs on "that fucking prick" Near, and, on very rare occasions, talking about the "old days." So many times, Matt was tempted to tell the blond just what he felt when he watched Mello sleep at night, how he wanted to kiss those sweet, chocolate-laced lips, and hold him until the sun came in through the window and kept them from falling back asleep. _

_Maybe if he had said it, he wouldn't have left again._

_He wouldn't have joined the fucking _Mafia_._

_Matt knew Mello was pretty ballsy, he had no idea just how much so though. _

_"I won't be staying here anymore. You stay here and watch over things while I'm working, got it?" He wasn't even looking at him when he spoke. He was getting ready to leave. _

_"Yeah, it's cool," the redhead lied, looking back down at his PSP. "You ever gonna come visit?"_

_Mello smiled. "Of course, I'll see you on the weekends." There was something false, something forced and cruel in his smile. _

_"Alright, see ya," Matt replied, pretending to be too engrossed in his game to care. _

_The moment the door closed and the apartment was empty but for him and all his computer and game equipment, he kicked over one of the chairs in the kitchen with a snarl of frustration. _

Matt sat up to slide his jacket off. He quickly straddled Mello's waist, grinning lecherously. "You're not gonna have a sudden change of heart, right? I don't want to hear you saying you feel guilty halfway through." He pulled down on the zipper of Mello's leather vest.

"I said, shut up, Matt." Mello jerked the striped shirt up as far as it would go, urging the redhead to pull it off. He eventually complied, leaning back to pull it over his head and toss it to the floor.

They gave small gasps as skin met skin, already glistening dully as they began to sweat in anticipation. Lips, tongues, teeth met in a frenzy, desperate hands clutching shoulders, hair, back, waist, hips, ass...

"Wait, wait," Matt gasped, pulling back slightly when Mello ground his hips upwards. "Hold on," he said a bit more firmly, using a hand to hold down Mello's eager hips.

Mello looked up at him, eyes smoldering and dark.

_It's hot._

Matt's breath poured over his cheeks in hot waves as the two of them panted together. Matt seemed to be thinking of something.

Mello growled in frustration. "What is it?" he snapped, irritated with the firm grip Matt was holding on his waist, keeping him from arching upwards into the younger man's growing erection. He gave a sharp jerk, managing to escape his grip for a moment, pressing tightly against his hips.

Matt gasped sharply and leaned down, resting his forehead to Mello's. There was sweat forming on their brows now. "Just...slow down..." he breathed. "We can...take our time now..."

With a smirk, Mello realized just how right Matt was. He leaned up and kissed Matt slowly, deeply, passionately.

The redhead made a sound in the back of his throat and pushed Mello down into the pillows, his hands moving up to take a nipple between his finger and roll it back and forth.

"Don't run away again, okay?" the gamer slurred against Mello's neck, nipping and licking at the flesh until a small bruise formed.

Quickly, quite distracted by the things Matt was doing with his mouth, the blond nodded, moaning as Matt moved down his body to lick at the nipple he had just been fondling.

_He came back the first weekend. He had been very quiet, almost irritated the whole time. He was jumpy, tense, excessively alert. By the time Matt woke up on Monday, he was already gone, without so much as an early morning shake and a mumbled "see ya."_

_"Wake me up, before you go go," Matt sang morosely to himself as he ate breakfast alone._

_The next weekend, he never showed up. Nor the weekend after that, nor the one after that. _

_It was a month before he finally came back. And the first thing he did when he arrived was tie Matt to the bed and fuck him. _

_There was nothing behind it except anger and frustration. He was just Mello's whore, his outlet. _

_His dog. _

_And Matt wore his leash for another year and a half with fucking willful ignorance. _

_They slept in the same bed, but they might as well have been on different continents. A wall had been built between the two, thick and impenetrable, enough to rival the Iron Curtain. _

_When he'd cry, Mello would taunt him. When he screamed, Mello spat at him. When he fought, Mello would knock him out. _

_He wondered if he was living in The Body Snatchers. Each day he wondered when his pod person would walk in and put a bullet through his temple so he and this Pod Person Mello could go and conquer the rest of the world. _

_"Be a good boy now," Mello mocked as he pulled on his pants one Tuesday morning. He said he'd stayed an extra day because Matt had been so obedient lately. Even so, during the day, they rarely spoke, and at night, it was just more abuse. One more day didn't really mean much to the redhead anymore._

_"Hey, get me out of these things," Matt snapped tiredly, still laying handcuffed and naked on the mattress. _

_Mello simply grinned maliciously at him and left._

_He stayed handcuffed to the headboard, unable to move, eat, drink, even go to the bathroom, until very early Thursday morning. By that time, he'd pissed on the bed, unable to hold it any longer. He knew Mello would mock him for that, too, but he really didn't care at that moment._

_He was asleep when Mello finally came back. The sensation of something dripping onto his face was what woke him. _

_"M-Mello?" he murmured fearfully. Mello hit him whenever he spoke out of turn. _

_Heavy breathing and what sounded like hoarse sobs greeted his words and something foul smelling and thick dripped down onto his cheek._

_"D...damn it," the blond hissed feebly. He was struggling to unlock the handcuffs. _

_Matt could barely make out Mello's face in the dark. There was something dripping from his mouth and face. His clothes were filthy and torn and the smell of burning flesh was overwhelming on him, filling Matt's nostrils and causing him to gag. Had there been any food in his stomach, he might have puked. _

_Shaking hands moved over Matt's naked form once the handcuffs fell from his wrists, fingers clutching, trembling, jerking. Matt tried to reach out to Mello's hunched form, but it darted out of his reach and into the bathroom where he could hear the blond vomiting, cursing, crying. _

_That was the night he came crawling back, half his face burnt off and in worse shape than Matt had ever seen him. The redhead felt he like could forgive all the beatings, all the abuse, all the shit. Mello's pod person had suddenly died. _

_He had his best friend back. _

Mello was all for taking their time, but this was almost too much. He gritted his teeth together as Matt gave a particularly good suck, running his tongue along the underside of his erection. "Matt," he moaned, jerking at the auburn hair. "Matt, if you keep doing that, I'm gonna come."

That was all it took to bring the gamer up. He kissed the blond roughly as he thrust his hips forward, swallowing the moans and whimpers that resulted. It felt so good to have Matt filling him again, almost like some sort of epiphany, like he'd just fit the last missing piece into a jigsaw puzzle. Matt pulled away, gripping Mello's narrow waist, panting heavily, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth, between his bruised and kiss swollen lips. The blond felt a small bit of satisfaction at the fact that Matt's entire body seemed to be shaking in restraint. The redhead pulled out slowly, watching the pale figure squirm and writhe at the sensation before thrusting forward sharply again.

Mello threw his head back until it threatened to snap his neck, his moans bordering on screams. The leisurely pace was driving him crazy. He was so used to love making so hurried, he had no choice but to hold on for dear life and keep himself from coming too soon or passing out.

But this, this was _love_. It was love that was translated from words into actions, actions that were intentional and conscious attempts to convey what couldn't be spoken, actions that made them groan and scream and shake.

Mello's hands wandered Matt's body as if it were the first time they'd ever touched one another. Was this really what sex with Matt felt like? It seemed too good, too pleasurable.

No, this was their first time. That's why it felt so new.

Every single time they made love before this didn't seem to qualify. Every other time, the threat of Kira and the inevitability of death hovered over them, holding them back, injecting fear into what should have been nothing but passion.

Now there was no need to fear, no need to hurry. The pleasurable sensations and raw emotions running through their veins, passing between one another like static electricity was pure and unsullied.

Before, it had always been a frantic scramble, never knowing if "this time" would end up being the last time. They had always been constantly trying to bring each other to that delirious point of transcendence, when they lost a sense of time, place, and meaning for a few brief moments. The pleasure brought them to a world where Kira didn't exist, where Near didn't always win, where God wasn't watching.

This was almost torturous, but Mello couldn't think of a torture that felt better.

He loved him, he loved Matt. So much. He couldn't help himself. He loved the reassuring hands, loved the messy red hair, loved the eyes that so resembled the color of a pot of rich chocolate fondue, loved the defiant smirk when Mello began to babble pleas and incoherent murmurs.

It wasn't a _choice_. It was never a _choice_.

It was unstoppable. They couldn't avoid falling in love, just like they couldn't avoid jumping headlong into what they knew was a suicide mission.

They fell in love the moment they met, fell hard and hit the ground running.

Mello gasped the redhead's name as he suddenly felt calloused fingers close around his swollen member, pumping slowly, deliberately.

The gasp, moans, screams grew louder, their pace grew faster, but slowly and gradually, until Mello began to _really_ beg, feeling so close to the edge, so close to simply falling over the cliff instead of flying to the sky. He didn't want to fall alone. He didn't want to be alone. At that Matt finally gave in, thrusting into the blond's tight entrance again and again, faster and faster, his speed and strength growing at what seemed to be an exponential rate. The world outside their embrace seemed to have come to a halt.

"Fuck, Matt, I love you!" he groaned as Matt leaned down to give him a messy kiss before he finally came, letting out a strangled moan.

Matt followed him a moment after with a long, low groan.

Mello gulped for air as Matt slowly lowered himself onto the older man's trembling form, both of them basking in the luxurious afterglow.

But there was something more besides the simple feeling of relief and sexual satisfaction as the two of them clung to each other, kissing whatever part of the other their lips could reach.

He suddenly felt _alive_ again.

_"Well then, there you go. I have nothing to worry about."_

_Mello gazed at the redhead curiously. "Why is that?"_

_Matt put out his cigarette and finally laid down beside him, pulling him close, burying his face against his shoulder. _

_The cold was suddenly gone now. Mello clung to Matt's body, breathing in as much of the man's scent as he could, trying to etch every single detail about his body, his smell, the sound of his breathing, the sound of his heartbeat into his mind. He wanted to be able to summon up the image of his lover when he felt that cold hand of Death descending upon him. _

_'It's hot,' he thought. If he were to ever have to describe what perfection, what contentment and true happiness felt like, that's how he'd describe it. _

_Hot. _

_"If your Heaven was going to be perfect, you'd need me there, wouldn't you?"_

_Mello felt one of those burning tears trail down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe this one away. _

_He just let it burn and burn. _

_"Of course I would, you dumbass."_

* * *

Whew! Well, that's part one. Part two will be up as soon as I get time to finish it! Darn college and its pesky homework...  
Remember, **reviews are appreciated! Please review!** Thank you!


	2. Vices

A/N: Well, I finally finished chapter 2! Firstly, I want to say thank you theminion2001, Demon Hiei's Girl, narni4eva, and SyberiaWinx for their reviews and Implied Slash and MelRose19 for adding my story to their favorites list, and finally Rim Greaper for adding this story to their alert list. I appreciate all your input and feedback. It was very encouraging. I dedicate this chapter to all of you and everyone who read the first part.  
Secondly, I wanted to announce that this two parter is now a three parter. I got nearly halfway through this chapter and realized that it would be too long to be just one part. So, this is not the end! There might be a bit of a delay in finishing the next part. I've just started writing a piece of original fiction and I'm working hard on it along side this fanfiction. But I promise not to postpone it for _too_ long.Finally, I want to tell you all thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter. Reviews really do keep me going, they're a great confidence boost. So please, **read and review!  
**I really hope this chapter lives up to the first one. I was nervous when I wrote this part, because I wanted to make sure I lived up to the standards I set for myself in the first one. I think I've done a pretty good job, **though I'd love to hear what you think!**  
Now, without further delay, part 2.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, I am not making money from this fic, and I do not claim any of these characters as my own. Please don't sue the poor college student.

* * *

Part II - Vices

A shiver rolled over the thin limbs sprawled haphazardly over the bed sheets as Matt blew cool air over the spot he had just been licking on Mello's neck.

"Let's go do something," the gamer murmured.

Half-lidded azure eyes kept watch on the ceiling. It had suddenly become so fascinating. Had he really lived here for an entire month and never noticed the large water stain that looked like a cat riding atop a turtle? Maybe he was just crazy.

Yeah, it was more likely that he was crazy.

The head of red hair lifted from his shoulder. "Hey, did you hear me?" Chocolate brown eyes stared down at him, just as hazy and serene as Mello's were.

The blond nodded wordlessly, reaching up and placing his hands on the back of Matt's head, urging him downwards. "In a minute," he muttered.

In a minute, I'll get out of bed. It was what Matt had said yesterday morning.

It suddenly seemed so far away.

But, in a way, it was. Yesterday they had been alive, had been breathing. Life was, indeed, quite far away from them now.

Honestly, it was a scary thought. He suddenly felt like a zombie, the walking dead. Or a ghost. Or...something unnatural. Something that made that disgusting scar look downright cute by comparison.

_Matt's cigarettes went untouched for a full week and a half after Mello came back. For the first few days, when Mello's burns were so painful that he could barely even chew, Matt agreed to give them up while he healed, since the blond couldn't eat chocolate either. At least, that was how it started. When Mello was a little better, Matt began using his lighter to heat up chocolate bars, softening them up so Mello could devour them at his normal rate without any pain. He'd make hot chocolate, chocolate milk, whatever he could manage to put chocolate in. Anything chocolate from ice cream to soda, it would be in Mello's hands within an hour of requesting it. _

_The redhead should have still felt like a dog._

_But really, to him, he was now the owner. _

_"What the fuck do you mean?" Mello snapped when he'd confided this to him. "You don't _own_ me."_

_Matt laughed, handing over the chocolate pudding cup. "No, I just meant that...I dunno, I kind of feel like I'm taking care of a pet. You know, like in those movies that Disney makes, where the kitten gets orphaned in a storm and some girl saves him and nurses him back to health."_

_The look Mello gave him told him that the sentiment was not mutual. _

_They couldn't afford to get the mattress cleaned, so they threw it out. Mello slept on the couch and Matt slept on the floor, or whatever chair he happened to be curled up on. Matt would still watch him as he slept. That was the only thing that had never changed between them. _

_Matt was always last to bed, last to rise. _

_He would always be awake to watch the way that Mello's face, normally tense and rigid in discomfort, would suddenly relax as his mind drifted elsewhere, away from the searing pain in his skin and the heavy burden on his shoulders. The redhead vaguely wondered where it was that Mello's thoughts would wander as he sat in the dark apartment, when the only light in the room was the ghostly glow from his Gameboy, resting limply in his lap. He would wonder as he began to drift away himself, his eyes practically shut as his finger clumsily switched the portable game system off and a gentle breeze would come in through the open window, brushing away the worries and the anxiety from their chests and blanketing them in peaceful slumber. _

Matt made a triumphant noise, head disappeared behind the bed as he fished in his jacket pocket. There were fading scars crisscrossing his back.

Mello couldn't help but smile at the noise.

It helped him forget the troubles that had already begun to creep back into his mind. Even in death, he couldn't escape it...

He couldn't escape the fact that he had given Near the win. He had given up the one thing he worked all of his years to achieve.

In one fell swoop, he had lost his hopes, his dreams, his aspirations, and his life.

He suddenly felt vulnerable, and not just because he was still naked under the bed sheets.

Matt finally reappeared, smiling broadly. Nothing could beat that smile here. The moment Mello laid eyes upon it, he forgot about Near, at least for now. The redhead was holding up a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. With a grateful moan, he lit one and took a long drag. "I was afraid they'd have disappeared or something," he exhaled, playfully tickling Mello's feet through the sheets. "Your God is pretty merciful, Mello."

The blond jerked his feet away, though not out of anger. It was impossible to be angry with that face right now, even if he was smoking. "Not _my _God, Matt," he corrected, plucking the cigarette from the nimble fingers. "_The_ God."

Those eyes begged Mello not to toss the cigarette out the window, which was what normally happened when Matt decided to smoke in bed. "We don't know that for sure," Matt said, a hint of pleading to his voice. "I prefer to think that _the _God is Dievas."

Mello kept the cigarette out of the gamer's reach. "Dievas? You mean Lithuanian mythology?"

"Or Latvian, whatever you like. The Baltics are great," he snapped sarcastically. "Now can you give that back? Don't make me show you my bullet hole again." He gave a lopsided grin.

Mello glared before putting the cigarette to his lips and inhaling. "There, you can have it back now." He released a cloud of grey fog.

Matt stared at him incredulously, as if Mello had just eaten his own face. "What the hell? You never smoke."

Scarred shouders shrugged, turning away and looking out the window. It was still quite bright out. Maybe time was slower, but it seemed as if only a few minutes had passed since they came back home. It must have been a few hours at least. The blond grimaced, the feeling of smoke in his lungs turning unpleasant. He suddenly felt like he was being strangled. "Now I remember why," he said.

"Come on," the redhead laughed, standing up from the bed. "Let's get out of here." He held his hand out to the blond who was slowly trying to untangle himself from the sheets.

_Matt managed to go without smoking for a full two weeks. Honestly, he'd strongly considered quitting all together, but he hadn't told Mello yet. _

_Then, out of the blue, the blond wanted to go to New York. He wasn't completely healed yet, but there was nothing Matt could say to change his mind. The wall had sprung back up again. Mello didn't smile anymore, he didn't hold any casual conversations with the redhead. He was all business, pain, and sadism again._

_Two days after they got there, Mello left. He texted Matt to be there at the end of the week, that he'd come back then. _

_'Fuck that,' Matt thought. _

_It only took one day in the empty apartment for Matt's resolve to deteriorate. He smoked pack after pack, planted in front of the television with bad reception and screwed-up color, his mind off in a world where all that mattered was high scores and new levels. _

_Matt wasn't there at the end of the week. He went out to drink instead. He figured he'd give Mello a taste of his own medicine. _

_They were still children, no matter how grown up they acted. They treated each other with frigid immaturity. _

_When Mello started beating the shit out of him the next evening, Matt decided it was time the two of them grew up. _

_Even with his head in a fog of pain, it hadn't been too difficult to overpower Mello. Truthfully, it could have been sheer luck; Mello was not one known for underestimating people, especially not his "pets." A single miscalculation could get a man in Mello's position killed. He had acted submissive until the moment the blond let his guard down. At that moment, he seized the opportunity to pin Mello to the bedroom wall and steal the handcuffs away. _

_The threats that Mello began to scream were enough to make even the most heinous criminal's blood run cold. _

_Matt had heard them all before._

_No one tried to stop them as he dragged Mello to the car, his hands cuffed behind his back, thrashing about like an epileptic. He supposed their appearance alone was enough to warn against getting in their way._

_"Where the fuck are we going?"_

_Matt licked at his split lip in irritation. It had only stopped bleeding a little while ago. He gave a quiet sigh as Mello continued to grumble and kick in the back seat. He'd been doing it from the moment he got him in the car. His breath fogged in the air._

_Damn heater was broken. _

_When the redhead remained silent, Mello kicked the back of his seat sharply. "I swear I'm going to fucking kill you when I get out of these things." The handcuffs rattled menacingly. _

_Matt winced as the kick knocked his head against the headrest. His headache came back, full force, pain spreading from the swelling lump on the side of his head where Mello had pistol whipped him. _

_Mello continued to kick and scream and bitch as Matt drove as far away from New York and the bright city lights as he could. The road was empty and dark. There was no one around for miles._

_Perfect. _

_He pulled over, tires crunching in the thick snow. _

_The moment the engine went silent, Mello's protests suddenly stopped, frozen, hovering uncertainly in the air. His handgun was resting ominously in the passenger seat beside Matt._

_The gamer didn't reach for the gun. Instead, he lit a cigarette and sighed heavily. _

_The quiet felt so rich, so thick and soft. It calmed the craving in Matt's belly that the nicotine couldn't appease. _

_He got out of the car, feeling the snow compressing beneath his boots. He opened Mello's door, looking down at the blond, his expression unreadable. "Get out," he said simply._

_Mello kept himself far away, pressed against the opposite side of the car. He wouldn't look at Matt. "Piss off," he snapped._

_Matt stared at him for awhile. He was tempted to drag Mello from the car and throw him down into the snow. He could see it playing through his mind, fingers pressing into Mello's forearms as he wrenched him out of the back seat, causing a line of flowering bruises. He could see the snow smeared with red from the cut on Mello's temple where his head had hit the apartment wall. _

_He resisted the urge, watching as Mello's sharp breaths created clouds before his face, quickly dissipating as they rose. There, gone, there, gone, there..._

_His cigarette fizzled as he plucked it from between his lips and tossed it into the snow. "Fine, stay in here, I don't give a fuck."_

Matt grinned at the blond, eyes bright through orange goggles, standing behind the empty swing. "Well? Get on!"

Mello raised an eyebrow. How long had it been since he'd been on a swing set? Why the hell were they here at a playground anyway? "This is what you wanted to do? Play around at a park?"

With a pout, the gamer shook the swing impatiently. "Yeah, what of it? Now get on before I have to tie you down to it!"

Mello hesitantly approached and sat down slowly on the swing. He yelped in surprise and clung for dear life when Matt began pushing without warning.

He heard the redhead chuckle. "Been a while?"

"Only about 10 years."

He felt Matt's hands on his lower back before pushing off. Mello swung higher, delighting in the slight breeze as he ascended to the sky before falling back down to earth and into Matt's dependable hands.

He suddenly felt like he was only 7 years old again. The wind in his nose was crisp and light, the smell of England was rich and sweet. The grass was vibrant green instead of muddy brown. The snow was gone, the years were gone, he was a child again, back at the orphanage, where the days of responsibility, misery, and fear were worlds away.

He laughed gently, pumping slightly with his legs. Japan fell away from him, death and the afterlife fell away, slid away like water on glass, like cool water cascading down his back and face and hair.

He kept on swinging, higher and higher. The sun on his face came and went, the blinding light flashing in and out. His heart, his breaths, his body drifted into the rhythm of the creaking of the swing set. He wanted to jump, something inside of him was telling him to. But there was something else inside of him that held him back, something grown up and stuffy and scared.

"Just do it!" Matt yelled to him, smiling widely.

His feet hit the ground, causing the swing to come to a skidding halt.

Matt walked around in front of him. Mello kept his head down, staring at the dirt beneath his boots. "What's wrong? Too scared?" He wasn't mocking him. His tone was quite genuine.

Mello shook his head. Matt squatted down, ruffling the blond hair. "What is it?"

"I don't need to jump," he said quietly, thoughtfully. "I get enough of a rush with you."

There was an awkward moment of silence between them and Mello blushed violently, realizing how stupid his statement sounded. He was thankful that no one but Matt would ever hear it.

All of a sudden, Matt was hugging him, twining his fingers in the blond hair. "You haven't changed a bit."

_Matt flopped down in the thick snow, arms and legs spread wide. He smiled bitterly for a moment, watching the stars winking down at him. _

_Then, he began to move his arms and legs back and forth, feeling the snow melting into his shirt and his pants. It was freezing._

_He really didn't care. _

_He wanted to freeze all the impurities and let them crumble and melt away. _

_"What are you doing?" Mello barked from the car._

_"I'm making snow angels."_

_Mello glowered. "You don't believe in angels."_

_"Fine, then," the gamer replied tersely. "Snow _people_."_

_Eventually, he could hear the telltale footfalls of Mello approaching him. "You're soaking wet," he stated, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. _

_Matt shrugged. "I don't care." He grabbed a handful of snow, feeling his fingers go numb as he packed it into a solid ball of ice. He put it to the lump on his head and gave a heavy sigh of relief, his eyes fluttering shut. A few moments passed. Neither of them moved. _

_Opening one eye, Matt looked up at his partner. He was staring out into the distance, a look of intense concentration on his face. He could see the cogs turning in Mello's mind, constantly moving, constantly overheating, constantly jamming and creating unimaginable frustration. _

_The gears needed to cool. They needed to rest._

_He grabbed the blond by the ankle, his grip a little more desperate than he'd like to admit. "Come on, sit with me. I'll take the handcuffs off."_

_Mello opened his mouth, ready to make a remark that the snow would ruin his leather pants. Like he didn't have at least ten other pairs back at the apartment. These weren't even his favorite pair. So, face still set in a rigid glare, he sat down awkwardly next to the redhead. As he agreed, Matt fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs. _

_"You know, you're making it awfully easy for me to kick the shit out of you," the former mob boss remarked as Matt held the silver rings back to him, hanging on one gloved finger. _

_"I think the fact you should focus on is that I'm trusting you _not to_." _

_For the first time in months, their eyes really met. Both of them froze, brown and green equal in intensity and honesty. The wall had finally been lifted, torn apart in a fit of joy after years of cold isolation. _

_Mello made a choked noise and threw himself onto his back to avoid Matt's gaze. He lay beside the redhead, tense and rigid. _

_"Welcome back," Matt said quietly, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips. _

_At first, there was nothing. The quiet of the evening hung over them. _

_Then, a soft sniffle. _

_A choke. _

_A whimper._

_Sobs. _

_Matt reached an arm out and allowed Mello to roll heavily onto him, his face pressed into his shoulder, the slender body jumping and jerking with unrestrained crying. Mello's hands were gripping his arms and shoulders so tightly it hurt. He stroked the blond hair with one hand as the other arm curled around his waist. _

_The tears didn't bother Matt. He was happy to see them. The ice was slowly melting away, leaving trails down Mello's cheeks and neck. _

_"Fuck, Matt," he gasped. "I...I hated it." He didn't need to say anymore for his friend to understand. _

_The Mafia could do some serious shit to a teenager's psyche. _

_The first weekend he came to see Matt, he was sick to his stomach. He had yet to really see his first death. Sure, he had killed that rival boss, but that had been an act of self-defense. No, his first week, he'd gotten to _hear_ his first death._

_The screams he heard there...that was the sound of bloodlust, the sound of agony, the sound of Hell._

_The noises haunted him. He wandered about their apartment that weekend, jumping at the smallest noises, twitching when Matt would touch him. He was angry, he was scared, he was crumbling. More than anything, he just wanted to crawl into a hole, close his eyes, and press the sounds out of his head with the force of a bullet. _

_He couldn't stand to look at Matt, so he just stayed away. He didn't want to look at Matt and see the blood cascading down slit throats, brain matter splattered against a stained concrete wall, the spasms and squirms of their suffocating bodies behind his eyes. He wouldn't be able to stand listening to Matt's voice, accompanied by their screams and gasps and chokes in his head. It would have been too much. _

_It would have sullied the only pure thing left in his God forsaken life. _

_And so, he forced himself to grow up. He left his boyhood behind, turned their deaths into his nourishment, turned their suffering into his life. He became the only thing he could, the only type of adult he'd ever known. _

_It was addicting. _

_Everywhere he went, he was starving for the violence, desperate for the sight of blood. It was his only source of sustenance. _

_So, he forced it from Matt, forced his screams, forced his struggle, forced their bond of friendship to the very brink of defilement. _

_It was all pouring out of his mouth now, as the snow soaked into his clothing and turned his toes and fingers numb, all being released to the empty winter air, touching on Matt's ears and mind before drifting away into the night. The blond had dissolved into incoherent sobs before he could finish. _

_Matt was crying too, hands fisting in the fur-lined coat, face pressed as close as it could get to the scarred cheek. Apologies fell from their lips in stumbling gasps. _

_The leather was rigid and uninviting against Matt, but beneath it, Mello's body was soft and warm and searching for emotional release. _

"Why did you do it?" he asked. Matt was reaching down for his hands to peel away his leather gloves. He could tell the redhead was desperate to just _feel_ Mello's hands on him for once, out in the open, away from their private, intimate hideaways.

"Don't ask me that," Matt said, his voice unusually cold. He set the gloves aside, on his knees now in front of the older man sitting atop the swing.

Mello bristled slightly. "Why not?" he said, an irritated tone edging his voice. He snatched his hands away from Matt, who was bringing them to his lips to kiss the delicate pads of his fingers.

The redhead gave a tired sigh and reached out, sliding his arms around Mello's waist.

Somehow, they ended up on the ground. There was some hugging, clinging, kissing, a few brief tears. Mostly, there was a lot of wrestling. It started out serious until Mello tickled Matt into submission. Now he was kneeling over the lanky gamer, pinning him to the ground with his own body.

"Come on, you bastard," Mello ordered, getting a little more than irritated now. Matt was still gasping for air, trying to regain his breath after the vicious tickling attack. "Tell me! Why the hell-" Mello cut off. He hadn't realized he was crying until Matt reached up and brushed away a stray tear from his jaw with his thumb. The hole through the center of his palm stared up at the blond like a violent accusation. He caught Matt's wrist roughly. "This!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger frantically at the hole. "Why the hell did you let _this -_ I mean, what were you thinking when you -" He was beginning to get really pissed off that Matt was fucking _smiling _at him. He looked downright amused. "Was it fucking worth it?!"

Slowly, as if worried that Mello would grab his other wrist as well, Matt reached up and removed his goggles from his eyes, this time letting them hang around his neck. "Hey, can you tell me something?" he asked nonchalantly.

Mello snarled. "Answer my question," he said, voice tight and quiet.

Matt reached up and began to twist the blond hair around his finger. "What was the last thing you thought of? Before you died, I mean."

Mello blushed. What had he thought of? He'd thought of auburn locks, messy and oily from the sweating and ruffling of an active night. He'd thought of an ashtray on the nightstand, overflowing with cigarette butts. He'd thought of the rhythmic clicking of video game buttons, the sound of a brewing pot of coffee.

"Y...you..." the blond admitted quietly. He looked down and saw he was still clutching at Matt's wrist. "B-but that doesn't answer my question!"

"Yes, it does." Matt's expression was stern now. His smile had disappeared. "If you have to ask me, then you really don't deserve to be number one."

"You shut up," Mello warned icily. His body tensed, infuriated adrenaline beginning to course through him.

Matt let his arms fall back down, spreading them wide, looking away from the blue-green eyes that were glinting dangerously down at him. It was a sign of submission, a silent gesture of surrender. It was a remnant of their days in the orphanage. "Sure, it was worth it. I mean, I don't really mind it all. Nothing we can do about it now, right?"

"You don't mind?!" he yelled, shaking Matt by his shoulders. "You don't mind that I treated you like shit?! That I hit you and kicked you and fucking raped you just to keep myself going?! You don't mind that I asked you to fucking _die for me_?!" He stopped, gasping for air. His knuckles were white against those stripes. The sun was beginning to set, the orange glow turning the gamer's skin almost bronze. He still lay limply beneath Mello, arms out, leaving him vulnerable, open, defenseless.

"Not a single bit," Matt whispered.

_They were still shivering violently when they stumbled through the front door. Golden hair was plastered to leathery scars and lips that were beginning to purple. Their jackets fell haphazardly to the floor, soaking wet and dripping. The goggles that had been keeping Matt's hair out of his face followed shortly after. Mello grabbed the redhead and pressed close to him, desperate for warmth, though a far greater desperation suddenly blossomed between them. _

_'War-torn lovers,' Matt thought as Mello fisted a shaking hand in his hair. The gamer pressed his face into Mello's bare shoulder, panting hotly against the skin under the guise of trying to keep him warm. _

_The war of Kira had torn them apart, the war of who would rise to be the new L, a war waged by the cruelty of the world, a cruelty that had urgently tried to keep them apart. _

_Even now, it was keeping them apart. They were still behaving as if they were searching for warmth in each other's arms. A deep fear that had been carved into them from childhood kept them from moving forward, a fear of rejection, abandonment, loss. _

_They should have showered, should have washed off the ice caught in their hair and the snow chilling them to the bone, but they didn't make it that far. They were pressed against the bedroom door when Matt finally kissed those chapped, frigid lips. _

_"S-stop," the blond stuttered, hands pushing half-heartedly against the broad shoulders. His lips were all too responsive though, betraying his words as Matt kept laying soft, short kisses on them, hands fumbling unsuccessfully with the door knob. "Matt, please...stop, Matt..."_

_Had his mind not been lost to the little sighs and mewls that Mello began making as he moved his kisses across his jaw and to his ear, Matt would have laughed. It was a rare occurrence to see the blond making such a weak attempt at protest. _

_Mello was a utilitarian at heart. Sure, he wore flashy clothes and practically lived for dramatic effect when it came to intimidation. But when it came to emotion, he was strictly practical. If it wasn't worth it, if it wasn't useful, then it didn't merit his time or attention. There was no such thing as weakness, no such thing as _half-heartedness_ to Mello. _

_It was all or nothing for him._

_Maybe that was why he suddenly shut up when Matt finally gave up with the door knob and pulled the blond away from the door, hands gripping the thin forearms, before leading him to the couch and pushing him back down onto it. _

_They were panting now as Matt crawled over Mello, who was still shaking and clinging to the redhead, but their breaths were so ragged and shuddering, it sounded like something grotesquely different. _

_When Matt leaned down to kiss him again though, the blond's hands pushing on Matt's chest were much firmer. "Matt...please," he whispered. "Can't we just..." He closed his eyes as if the words were too much for him. "Just...lie here? Please?"_

_And so they did, shivering and shaking, hands clinging, caressing, holding in ways that betrayed the strong front they put up each day. The hard-working space heater in the center of the room was enough to keep them from teetering over the brink and into hypothermia. _

_In the back of his mind, Matt reasoned that he wouldn't care if he died of the cold right here. _

_Mello abandoned him for a hot shower and a change of clothes an hour or so later. But Matt could tell by the way he kept rambling and trailing off and stalling before finally getting up and moving into the bedroom, that he was reluctant to leave Matt's arms, leave the safety of his company. _

_That was enough to keep Matt from needing another cigarette, at least for the night. _

They left the park when the first streetlights began to flicker on in the dying sunlight. They didn't head back towards the apartment. Mello doubted they'd be heading back there at all. He told Matt that he wanted to go somewhere.

Normally, he wouldn't take Matt along with him, but he suddenly felt tired. He wanted someone there with him, if only to lean on for a moment. The blond felt a prickle of irritation at the placid expression on Matt's face. It never seemed to leave his features, always calm, always strong.

When had it turned into this? When had Matt become the pillar of support and Mello, the crumbling foundation?

No, Matt was just as weak. He was unmotivated. He had never had the same drive as Mello or Near. It earned him a few enemies at Wammy's, children who were quite jealous of his amazing achievements that he never seemed to work hard for, that he always seemed to pass off with a modesty that bordered on inconsiderate. It definitely earned him Mello's ire at every possible moment.

_Vacant brown eyes stared down at empty palms where a Gameboy Advance had rested only seconds before. Slowly, as if caught in a lethargic daze, though the frantic tapping of game buttons moments before belied this assumption, his head turned and looked over at the electronic system in the corner. The screen flickered pitifully, like the last little movements of a dying animal. A spidery crack spread across the plastic covering from the impact it made on the bedroom wall. _

_"What are you going to do now? Huh?"_

_Again, just as slowly, he turned back to the boy who had just thrown his game against the wall towering over him. A sock covered foot tapped against the wooden floor impatiently. The tapping sped up as those eyes, that were still caught between hazel and brown in the indecisiveness of youth, moved up the foreboding figure in a methodical and meticulous pattern._

_"Well? Are you mute or just stupid?" the figure barked again. _

_The boy crouching at his feet deduced that his antagonist didn't like being analyzed. He didn't blame him. _

_"I'm not stupid," the younger boy murmured. He began to move to his hands and knees to crawl over and retrieve his damaged game system. _

_"Yeah, well you're an annoying little pain!" The socked foot kicked him roughly in the shoulder. He watched unsympathetically as the boy fell to the floor on his side, making only the minimal expression of pain as his bony hip knocked sharply against the wood. "Do you think you're better than me? Do you? Think you're too good for us?"_

_He looked up briefly at the blond boy as he sat back on his heels, but refused to meet his gaze. He could see a few of the other children peering into the room. They were eager to see a fight. "If you're going to beat me up," he said, his voice cold and firm now. "Then just get it over with." He began staring daggers up at the boy. For the first time since he'd stormed in, the blond actually looked bewildered, but only for a split second. He caught the redhead's gaze staring at the doorway behind him. He turned to see what he was looking at. _

_"What do you want?! A show?!" He stomped over to the door and slammed it in the children's faces. _

_A wave of relief passed over the redhead's features until he heard the clicking of the lock. He scurried away into the corner with his Gameboy when he was sure the other child wasn't looking. It wasn't long before he felt a furious scowl burning into the back of his head. He kept staring at the corner, rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet. He was trying to stop his hands from shaking as he clutched his broken Gameboy. The room was closing in around him._

_Arms crossed over his chest, the blond could find no sympathy for the cowering figure in the corner. Their latest computer project had been one of the hardest he'd ever had. Even _Near _failed to come out on top this time. He could still remember how overjoyed Roger had been with the top student of the activity. _

_It had been this pitiful newcomer. _

_'What a waste,' Mello had thought bitterly and he was sure he wasn't the only one. The arrogant little prick didn't even _acknowledge_ Roger's praise. He just sat there, staring out into space. The only indication that he gave that he had even heard Roger was a quick nod before gluing his eyes to that goddamn Gameboy again. _

_Hell, even Near had said 'thank you' after his ranking exams. At least Near had the decency to look other people in the eye, instead of avoiding everyone. At least he recognized other people's existence. _

_"So, what's your problem?" the blond snapped, taking furious strides towards the boy. "You're never outside, you never talk to people." He nudged the boy in the center of his back forcefully with his heel. "What, you think you're going to get out of here anytime soon? Well, I've got news for you. You're never leaving. Want to know why?" He leaned down with a malicious smirk. "It's because no one wants you," he hissed in the boys ear. _

_The next thing Mello knew, he was on his back with the redhead standing over him, hands balled into fists, eyes filled with tears and blazing with rage. Mello hadn't even comprehended that the other boy had hit him across the face with his forearm until he was being yelled at, the pain slowly rising in his jaw. "Good!" he shouted, taking a threatening step forward. Mello even jerked away until he realized that if the redhead lashed out again, the blond could easily overpower him. "I don't care if no one wants me! I don't ever want to leave here! I'd rather rot here than go back to my parents!" Mello caught the thin wrist as it reached down to grab his shirt collar. This didn't faze the smaller boy; he kept shouting, his voice cracking and ragged. "You're just like them! So, go ahead, hit me! Do what you want! I'll hide! And you'll never be able to find me! You'll never be able to hit me again! My parents will die in prison and they'll never, EVER, EVER FIND ME!" He wrenched his wrist out of Mello's vice-like grip and yanked his shirt over his head. The blond froze at the large welts, scars, and bruises covering the young boy's body. Some of them were still red and raw; one of the longer ones near his neck had some dried blood crusted over it. "Go ahead! Try and make your mark! Because I'll never be able to tell which one is yours! You're just another scar! Yours are no different from theirs!" He stopped, shaking in fury. He threw his arms out, planting his feet wide apart. "Well?!" He snarled when the blond backed away from him, pale as a sheet. "What is it?!"_

_Mello couldn't stand it anymore. He looked away, down at his hands, tight and shaking against the floor. "M-my parents didn't want me either, you know..." The moment the words left his mouth he realized how stupid and selfish it sounded. _

_But he didn't have time to apologize, because the next moment, the redhead had fallen to his knees, bawling his eyes out. After a few moments, it became clear to Mello that he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He reached over and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Sorry," he muttered. _

_He felt the heat rise in his face when the younger boy suddenly threw his arms around him, burying his face in his oversized shirt. Slowly, clumsily, he tried to hug him back, his elbows sticking out in an attempt to avoid pressing on any of the bruises or cuts. It took him a few moments to realize that the redhead was pleading with Mello not to hit him. _

_"I'm not going to hit you," he insisted as gently as he could for a seven-year-old. "Calm the hell down." The pleading stopped, the sobs disintegrated into sporadic sniffles. "What's your name, anyway?"_

_The hands clutching the front of Mello's shirt seemed so small, as if they would disappear and get lost in the folds of the black fabric. "My name?"_

_Mello nodded as the brown eyes looked inquisitively up at him, through ruffled strands of red hair. "Yeah, the name they gave you."_

_"Matt," he replied. Mello could tell that the name felt foreign on the boy's tongue. He would get used to it, as all the children did. "What about you?"_

_Mello grinned dangerously, secretly delighting in the slight apprehension he saw in Matt's eyes. "Name's Mello, and I'm going to be number one. I'm the next L."_

The sun had finally set. The night was rapidly growing darker. Mello wondered which one of Matt's pockets his gloves were stashed in as they walked hand in hand down the sidewalk. One of the redhead's fingers gently tapped against his knuckle. "Hey, where are we headed?"

Mello looked over out of the corner of his eye. Matt wasn't looking at him, he was staring up with vacant eyes, watching as a plane roared over their heads; it sounded like an odd kind of whisper. "You can go back if you want," he muttered. "I doubt you'll want to go." His grip loosened a bit, secretly hoping Matt's hand wouldn't follow suit.

It didn't. It squeezed the limp hand encouragingly. "We're in this together."

He should have thrown his hand away, he should have told him to go home and not to follow, but Mello kept his mouth shut. He winced internally; the guilt in his stomach manifested into physical sensation, like someone jabbing him in the side with a pin.

They were each other's support, they were each other's vices, more than chocolate and cigarettes. Mello knew they would probably be dead without one another.

No, they _were_ dead, _because_ of each other. Because of him.

His drive to get to the top was so intense, it was morbidly unhealthy. He was lucky that he had Matt to find him passed out on his bedroom floor back at Wammy's, starved and dehydrated from weeks of nonstop studying for the end of the year ranking exams. He would have died if no one had come up to check on him, which no one ever did. Matt was the only person who ever stepped foot in Mello's room for the simple purpose of friendly conversation.

Matt...well, Matt just didn't give a fuck. Mello saw the long, precise scars on his arms when they met up again in LA. He'd finally gotten Matt to come clean, gotten him to finally admit that when Mello had left, he took it a lot harder than he let on. He had to admit though, he was secretly swelling with pride when he got Matt to throw out all his razors and scissors. He checked the man's arms every week until the day he finally left to join the Mafia. Every week they were clean, no new scars, no blood, no fresh wounds. It was sad though. Matt's body was already so ruined, his arms had been the one thing left unblemished. Now, they were no different from the rest of him, his entire body was a canvas of pain and suffering.

Smoking was another story, but he'd been smoking long before Mello left Wammy's. The blond deemed it out of his right and resigned himself to nagging the gamer whenever he could. He sometimes wondered why Matt stayed by his side for all those years.

Mello squeezed the hand in his tighter, fleetingly frightened that the younger man might suddenly disappear. The thought made his heart race, made him break out in a brief cold sweat, made him anxious and nervous.

Classic signs of withdrawal.

They needed each other to survive.

Mello doubted they could have any greater vice than that.

Matt remained silent as they walked further and further away from the center of the city. The buildings were spaced farther apart, the roads deviated from their typical grid pattern. He never once asked again where they were going, never inquired about what they were going there for. The next time he spoke, they had come to a halt in front of Matt's biggest torment, the one thing that had caused him and his lover a great deal of agony, anguish, and angst through their short lives.

"Fuck, Mello," he grumbled sharply, shoving his free hand into his pocket, striking his classic sulking pose. "You had to bring me to a fucking church."

* * *


	3. Marks of Religion

A/N: Okay, now, don't be mad at me, but this isn't the end. I'm sorry! (cowers in fear). But, this chapter is extra long. Not super long, but long, nonetheless. Long enough to reasonably be two chapters. So it's been divided into two chapters. Just one more after this! I just finished my exams and haven't had a proper chance to write more for about a week. Since my brain is still recovering from the stress of finals, the second half of part three won't be very soon. It might be a week, it might be longer. I thought I'd made you all wait long enough for the next section, so I decided to at least put up the first half of the last part. Also, since I'm going camping with my family in a few days, I might not get a chance to work at all on this fic. I took the initiative and decided not to postpone this any longer.  
I want to begin by saying that I don't think I've ever felt more anxious about my writing before. I keep setting the bar higher for myself and I tried my best to not let you guys down. As I said before, I am extremely interested in what you have to say, so as always, **reviews are immensely appreciated!**  
Lastly, I have a round of 'thank you's' to give. If I've forgotten you or left you out, I apologize profusely. I will no longer be posting faves and alerts thank you's here (there's just too many!), but I will be listing them in my final author's notes, so please know that your actions have not gone unappreciated (on the contrary, I feel all warm and tingly when I get favorited). So, I want to extend extra special thanks to EmoAndTheSpazz, Fullmetal-Tora, thinlimitation, Trinny Dream, Shima-ru, narni4eva, hellishlygood, flamablechoklit, SyberiaWinx, Demon Hiei's Girl, and AngeloftheOdd on as well as divine-fanaticy, the-and-moose, and mrsjeevas on the livejournal community. I cannot express in words how amazing I felt to get your reviews. Once again, I dedicate this to all of you who have helped me along and encouraged me to keep on writing.  
More of that fantastic inspiration is just a click away, **please read and review!**  
Now, enough jibber-jabber! Let's get on with it!  
See you all again at the next chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of it's characters. I only own witty things to say in disclaimers.

Notice: I am not promoting Catholicism or Christianity or any other religion, I am not stating that it is in any way superior to any other belief, whether it be any other sect or religion or value/belief system, including atheism.

* * *

Part III - (Marks of) Religion

Mello paused between prayers and glanced over at the redhead leaning on a wooden column near the pews.

He'd put his goggles back on. His head was practically disappearing in the fake fur of his jacket, a small tuft of red poking out like a fox in the snow, as if he were being swallowed up.

No, he was trying to disappear.

His foot was jiggling impatiently, his hands were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, his cigarette was rolling back and forth between his lips anxiously.

His entire body was exuding an emphatic 'I want to get the fuck out of here, _now_.'

"Calm down and sit or something," Mello mumbled. He closed his eyes, ignoring the pain in his knees as he continued to kneel, hands clasped together, murmuring a prayer in a Slavic dialect that he knew Matt couldn't understand.

But it wasn't just the language that Matt didn't understand.

It was everything, God, faith, religion. It had never been something he could grasp, no matter how the blond explained it, supported it, insisted that God _was _real, was always watching.

_Matt watched curiously from his spot on the floor as Mello fingered the crucifix hung around his neck. The blond was laying back on his bed, staring forward with a look of intense concentration. Matt had given up on his homework hours ago, lying down on his back, his texts open and papers spread out around him, his brand new Gameboy in his hands. It had been the quiet jingling that distracted the redhead from his game, tilting his head back to stare up at his friend. _

_He had only known Mello for a few years now and, besides his drive to outdo Near, the absentminded fiddling with the beads had been the only consistent thing in his life that Matt had observed. _

_"What's that?" he asked, moving to sit up. _

_Mello blinked in confusion before suddenly realizing his mind had wandered elsewhere. He looked down at the rosary in his hand. "My mother left it for me."_

_Matt moved into a cross-legged sit and quietly shut off his game. "Are you...religious?" he asked apprehensively. Mello didn't usually like personal questions. _

_"I'm Catholic," he answered simply. _

_"Ah." The redhead bit his lip. An awkward silence fell between them. He wiggled his foot, picking lint from his sock absentmindedly. _

_"What about you?"_

_Matt looked up in surprise. It was astounding enough that Mello had answered him so candidly, now he was asking Matt personal questions. "You mean, am I Catholic?"_

_The blond shrugged his shoulders, trying to look uninterested, though Matt could see a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "Are you religious?"_

_"Uh, yeah...sure," Matt lied. "I mean, my parents took me to church..." He trailed off._

_Mello frowned. Matt had suddenly drawn into himself. Any mention of his parents and he would turn inward. He wouldn't speak, he wouldn't smile. _

_"Do you believe in God?" Mello leaned forward to touch the younger boy on the head. He wanted to try and break the shell that Matt had put up around himself. _

_Matt felt the hand on his head and hunched over even further. He felt ashamed to even look at Mello. "No."_

_The hand withdrew coldly. _

_The silence that followed was even worse than the first. _

_"Oh." _

_That was it. _

_That was all Mello said, his voice stiff and terse. _

_Matt switched his game back on, his hair falling in front of his face, creating a curtain of red that separated him from the suddenly unwelcoming, frigid boy on the bed. Mello kept fingering at the rosary, his actions jerky and sharp. The clattering of beads in Matt's ears seemed to get louder and louder. _

_It only took five minutes before Matt's fingers had stopped moving completely over the game buttons. _

_The blond looked down angrily at him and his hand curling the rosary around his knuckles slowed to a halt._

_Matt was shaking, tremors running through him at sporadic intervals. His hands flexed around the Gameboy nervously, as if he wanted to snap it in two in frustration. _

_A tear fell onto the screen with a heavy _plop_, spreading across the screen, catching the light and separating it into a rainbow. _

_Mello sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed so he was facing Matt, looking down at his bowed head. "Stop it," he said softly, trying to be firm without making it sound like an order. It was a difficult task. As smart as Mello knew he was, he also knew he had the social skills of an angry Chimpanzee. "I'm not mad at you because you don't believe in God."_

_"Yes, you are," Matt insisted in a choked voice, rubbing an arm across his eyes. He still kept his head down. _

_"No, I'm not," Mello retorted, teeth clenching together in frustration. "I'm mad because you couldn't be honest with me to begin with."_

_"Well, what else was I supposed to say?!" Matt suddenly exclaimed, his head jerking up to look at Mello with tear filled eyes. He was upset. "I don't believe in God, but my parents dragged me to church every damn Sunday! Am I religious? I don't know! But I sure as hell know that _there is no God_!" _

_Mello grabbed him by the collar. "How do you know?!" He was screaming now. The angry chimp had returned. "What makes you think you really know for sure?!"_

_Matt didn't react with physical anger. He never did. The minute someone laid a hand on him, he relaxed, went limp, never fought back. But that didn't mean he was conceding. There was no sign of a retreat in his smirk. _

_"The fact that you have to ask me that means that you don't really know for sure either, doesn't it?"_

_Mello shook him roughly. The Gameboy fell from the redhead's hand and landed on the floor with a clatter. "Don't talk about things you don't understand," he warned. "I have faith, I believe, I follow God's word! That's all I need to know!"_

_Matt laughed pitilessly. The blond had the sudden urge to punch him in the jaw. "Yes, you're the perfect little Catholic, aren't you?" He was sneering up at him. "My parents fancied themselves good Christians, too." He pulled down his shirt collar to show Mello the scar near his neck. "Look how faithful they were. So, tell me, Mello-" The smirk fell away. "Where was your God when they gave me _this_?"_

_"You're comparing me to your parents?" Mello looked repulsed. "I'm better than them," he insisted. "There will always be sinners who don't repent! I'm not your parents! I'm not a sinner like they are!"_

_"Right, right." Matt looked unconvinced. "You want to be upright and faithful and just."_

_"Yes!" Mello's grip on Matt's shirt loosened a bit, feeling as if he may have gotten through to the redhead. _

_"And you want to be the next L?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You'll do all you can to beat Near?"_

_"_Yes_."_

_Silence. Then..._

_"Hey, Mello, isn't it a sin to covet your neighbor's possessions?"_

_Mello's fist made contact with Matt's nose with a sickening crack. _

_The redhead landed on the floor on his ass, holding his hand to his nose. He hissed in pain as blood began to flow down his face, over his lips, onto his tongue, down his chin. "What the hell?!" he exclaimed, trying to keep the blood from dripping onto the floor. He stood up unsteadily, leaning a hand on the post of Mello's bed to keep himself up. _

_Before he could cuss Mello out, the blond had stormed out of the room, seething with anger._

_He should have been mad about so many things._

_He should have been mad that Matt lied to him. He should have been mad that Matt insulted his religion. He should have been mad that he had compared Mello to his parents. He should have been mad that Matt had insinuated he was jealous, envious beyond all reason. But he wasn't._

_He was mad because Matt was right. _

Matt had wandered over to one of the few windows that could be opened in the entire building and flicked the cigarette, which had burned right down to the filter, out the window. Before it had even hit the ground, there was another between his lips, already lit and filling his lungs with the smooth smoke. "I can't sit down," he muttered. "These places make me fidgety." As if to prove his point, the redhead began to pace back and forth. Even the nicotine couldn't ease his mind.

He looked up at the towering stained glass windows with scrutinizing eyes. The scenes depicted in the colored glass looked almost morbid in the dark, when there was no sunlight to shine through and illuminate the designs. The image of the crucified Christ looked like the Grim Reaper, dark and foreboding. "This place is damn depressing," he snapped, lowering his head again, toeing the corner of one of the pews with his boot.

"If you're not going to sit, can you at least keep _quiet_?"

The redhead tensed at the tone in Mello's voice. It was threatening, one he hadn't heard in quite some time.

Under any other circumstances, he would have ignored the request and told Mello to go fuck his haughty self. Instead, he took a long drag and exhaled silently, turning his back to the blond deep in prayer, and strolled away.

_When Mello had finally calmed down enough to face Matt again, he discovered that he was in neither his own room, nor Mello's. There were still drops of blood on the floor, leading to the bathroom, but that was the only sign that the redhead had ever been in there. _

_It didn't take the blond long to figure out where he was._

_Matt didn't look at all happy to see him when he poked his head up into the attic of the orphanage. He was crouched in a corner, near the small window, his Gameboy in hand, stained with a few drops of blood and tears, tapping harshly on the buttons. He looked back down at the system with a scowl. There was a splint over his nose, which was still a bit swollen._

_"Yeah? What is it?" he asked brusquely. _

_Mello heaved himself up off the ladder and into the attic, crouching down to avoid knocking his head. He remembered when they were only eight, they barely had to crouch to move around. Now, the blond was practically kneeling on the floor. He watched Matt for a few moments, waiting for him to turn off the game and listen._

_It quickly became apparent that it would be a cold day in Hell before that happened._

_"Look, Matt, we need to talk about this." He crawled over to Matt and sat down beside him as close as he dared. There was a nasty dip in the bridge of his nose just barely peeking out beneath the splint and Mello had the suspicion that the redhead had a very strong urge to return the favor. _

_"You sound like an adult," Matt snapped. "Did you just come here to talk to me like some stuffy bastard?"_

_"Did you go to the nurse?" Mello asked, suddenly eager to change the subject._

_"Yeah, Roger nearly passed out when she popped my nose back into place." A hint of a smile formed on Matt's lips._

_Mello grinned as well. "Remember when I broke my ankle last summer? I don't think he could have gotten any closer to albinism." Matt smiled a bit, but Mello's gentle laughter floated by itself through the attic. It died quite quickly and Mello rocked back and forth for a moment. "So..."_

_"I told him I ran into the door in your room," Matt suddenly answered. "That you had run out because you suddenly felt sick since I was bleeding so bad."_

_"Thanks, Matt," the blond said sarcastically. "Now he's going to think that _I'm_ a bloody pansy, too."_

_Matt shrugged and turned his back to the blond slightly, looking a bit frustrated. _

_"I'm sorry," Mello finally said softly. _

_"No, you're not. I'm getting sick of you saying that."_

_"Yes, I am, Matt!" He laid a hand on Matt's shoulder. It was shrugged off. He put it back, firmer this time. He was about to yell, but he gave a heavy sigh instead. "You're right. I'm not sorry I yelled, I'm not sorry I got angry."_

_"Then don't apologize," the redhead snapped. _

_"_But_..." Mello interrupted, squeezing Matt's shoulder to add on to the emphasis. "I am sorry I hit you." _

_Matt looked over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye. Mello quickly looked away, his cheeks tinged pink, evident even in the glaring sunlight, barely tinted with an orange hue from the slowly approaching sunset, coming in through the window. _

_Matt saw his hand slowly creep up to finger the rosary, but halfway through the motion it stopped and reached over to place itself on the redhead's arm. _

_There would be no more argument over the matter of religion. Not tonight. Even when they knew it was a bad idea, they kept the irritation and anger bottled up inside. There were more important things to worry about, like classes and homework and projects and kitchen raids and picking teams for soccer._

_They would come to learn years later that those things were only important in the world of children._

_But those arguments would always seem so pointless._

_Matt gave another shrug, though not to dislodge Mello's hands. "It's alright. Don't worry about it." He knew Mello would worry about it though, that he would mull over it for days without speaking a word about it, that he'd pick it apart and analyze it from every angle each time he saw Matt wince in pain from his broken nose. He'd worry about it until the day that the splint came off and the mark that served as a constant reminder of the awful quarrel was no longer there._

Matt wasn't standing near the pews when Mello turned away from the alter. The blond looked around the expansive chapel and found the redhead was no where in sight.

He exhaled sharply in frustration and stalked off to the one place he knew Matt would go.

"Hey, you done already?"

Mello glowered at the welcome he received from the redhead, who was leaning against one of the railings of the church steeple, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips, his goggles around his neck, gloves back on his hands in the bitter cold.

He always went to the highest point he could get, just like he'd always run to the attic whenever they fought.

"I thought you had run off on me," the blond answered as he made his way to Matt's side.

"Just needed some fresh air, I guess," Matt responded offhandedly.

The cold, winter wind blew through their hair as they looked out into the dark night before them. The warmth of the day was a vague memory now, as if it hadn't truly existed outside of their wistful thinking. Mello shivered and, almost against his will, edged closer to Matt's figure.

The striped arm wrapped around his shoulders and drew him in, close to his body. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, stubbed it out against the railing and threw it out into the night.

"I wouldn't run out on you," the redhead murmured, pressing his lips to Mello's neck, trying to warm the chilled skin. Mello imagined the he must gone through more than half of his pack of cigarettes, judging by the intensity of the smoky scent clinging to him. "As much as I don't want to be here-"

"You could have just gone home," Mello snapped. He made an irritated jerk, but didn't break free from Matt's arms. He still wanted the warmth. "I just don't understand you, Matt! Here we are, in the damn _afterlife_ and you still can't accept that God is real-"

Mello was suddenly left cold as Matt drew away from him with an angered snarl. "Mello, for once in your life, will you stop acting like an uptight bastard and shut up?!"

Frustrated that he had just been left at the mercy of the wind and that his friend was now giving him orders, that he was lighting up another cigarette and muttering obscenities as he took long, deep drags, Mello strode forward and poked the man sharply in the chest. "No, you shut up and listen to me!" He was practically red in the face now. "Get it through your thick skull that I am and always will be a bloody Catholic! I can't just give that up because you're a damn atheist and throw temper tantrums when I bring you to a fucking church!"

"You don't fucking get it, do you?!" the gamer exclaimed, throwing Mello's hand away from him. He took the cigarette from his lips and held it between his fingers. "It has nothing to do with my being atheist!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "Go ahead! Pray your God-fearing mind out! Believe as much as you fucking want! I don't give a damn about that!"

"Then what the fuck is it?!"

"It's you!" Matt finally yelled. Mello drew back slightly as Matt leaned forward to yell in his face. "I don't even fucking recognize you! The minute you step foot inside a church, you act like a goddamn crotchety old woman! You get so uptight and nervous and demanding, I feel like a fucking child! You start acting like-"

_Like my mother._

Mello knew the words that were going to come out of Matt's mouth, so he suddenly leapt forward and pressed a firm kiss on the redhead's lips to keep them from coming out. The freezing, trembling fingers clutched at the sleeveless jacket, his entire body pushing forward, trying to press the notion out of his lover's mind. Matt was completely rigid as Mello's hands slid up to cup his face tenderly between his palms. He tasted like he smelled, like cigarette smoke. Like dark chocolate almost, bitter but sweet underneath, that slight hint of burning tar, like some sort of fucked up frankincense.

He loved how he tasted. He was the contrast to the sugary taste of chocolate that had ingrained itself into Mello's taste buds. He was his snap back to reality, his return to humanity, his reminder that there was a world beyond beating Near and the age of Kira.

And here was that world in his arms, cold and unresponsive against him.

An angry tear escaped his eye and fell down his cheek. He wanted to slap Matt so badly for rejecting him.

"You can't just tell me you love me and make it all better," Matt replied coldly when Mello pulled away and let his head fall onto his shoulder. "We can't kid ourselves anymore, that's not going to patch this up." He dropped his cigarette and stomped it out angrily under his boot.

"I don't want to patch it up," Mello said, his voice shaking, his breath coming out in ragged, barely restrained gasps, his hands still on Matt's face. "I want to fix it."

The redhead could tell that Mello was holding back a tidal wave of grief and anger. He could see it in the way that his arms tensed and flexed, desperate with the urge to throw something, hit something, shoot something. Only for Matt did he ever control that desire, at least to a degree. "Look, I get it, okay?" He said, his tone torn between reassurance and irritation. He took Mello's chin in his fingers, turning his face upwards. "Just...don't bring me with you if you're going to get this serious. Any mention of God and you get all doomsday-like on me."

"I don't get doomsday-like!" Mello snapped.

"You went on for _weeks_ about how we were damned to Hell because we were fucking!" Matt's eyes began looking tired. "You were giving me bloody lectures about all the vivid, horrible details of our fiery, eternal punishment!" Mello went silent at this comment, the anger quickly draining out of him, replaced by embarrassed guilt. Matt's anger soon followed, replaced by a look of pleading, begging the blond to understand what he was trying to say. "I mean, why do you come here? Why do you pray? You do it to find some peace of mind, right? To just be alone with your thoughts?" Matt drew him close again, nuzzling his ear with his nose lightly. "I get that, I understand it. That's why I don't want to be around you in a place like this." Mello felt a kiss pressed to his scarred temple. His lover's lips were cool and soothing against the frustrated veins fluttering beneath the skin. "We're two different people. I'm not good at this sort of thing like you are. I don't like to be quiet and memorize prayers. I want to be by myself to pray to God."

"You don't believe in God," Mello reminded the redhead, whose lips were now moving down his neck.

Matt gave a shy grin. "Mello, if I didn't believe in God, I'd be in Hell right now."

The blond yanked on the red hair to look into his friend's face, eyes wide in disbelief. "What, I _converted _you?"

"I wouldn't say that, I just..." Matt was suddenly blushing bright red. He looked immensely uneasy under Mello's shocked gaze, so much so that the former mob boss almost giggled. "I don't know! I mean, I can't really explain it!"

Mello looked skeptical. "I never saw you praying," he commented suspiciously.

"Where the hell do you think I went every Friday?"

_Matt let out a quiet laugh as he stared up at the icon of Jesus looking down at him, sprawled out lazily on the front pew, bathed in the splashes of wine red, baby blue, and royal purple as the sun came in through the stained glass. His hand was rubbing over the velvety fabric of the seat as if trying to comfort himself with it's texture. This was the fourth week he had come here, and he still hadn't spoken a word, hadn't prayed at all. Normally, he would sit there, staring up at the alter, looking for stillness, some sort of relief. Slowly, very slowly, it came to him, though he still had not reached a point where he felt comfortable opening his soul to a man who had never been there for him. The kind, old nun sweeping off the steps at the door knew him well by now. She greeted him with a wave and a smile every Friday morning. _

_He was too cowardly to come on a Sunday, too afraid of being packed in between all those devout church-goers. Or maybe they wouldn't sit next to him at all. He was a non-believer. That was like the Black Death to a Catholic, right?_

_The redhead felt bad that he had to get here by lying. It seemed cruel, hypocritical, insulting. He always told Mello something lame. Things like, _I'm just going for a drive_, or _I'm going to check on our weapons cache_. They resounded through his mind like an annoying buzzer, something constantly nagging and poking. He hated the look on his lover's face when he would crawl from beneath the covers, give him a soft kiss on the cheek, then slip out of the house, lying through his teeth. _

_It was something he had to do on his own. He knew that much. It was a beast that Mello could not help him conquer, one that he _shouldn't_ help him conquer. _

_"Hey." Matt's voice sounded loud in the towering domed room, though it was barely above a whisper. "You know, I've never really done this before." He leaned his elbows on his knees, smiling weakly. "I mean, I've seen Mello do it before, and..." _

_He bowed his head, as if he were afraid he'd be struck by lightning, smote by the hand of God for being so informal. "Well, he just does it so nicely. Like if I screwed it all up, he was going to yell at me for it. He's got all these prayers memorized-" He was lighting up a cigarette, even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. "-and he's got it all figured out. You know? I...I don't know any prayers. Never have. And I just..." The redhead trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. "I didn't believe in you, and I'm sorry for that I guess. I'm still trying to sort this all out." He paused, mentally listing off in the few seconds of silence all of his reasons for despising this deity whose sole intent seemed to be making Matt's life miserable. He suddenly felt angry. "I mean, where were you when my parents hit me? Where were you when Mello left the orphanage? When he joined the Mafia? When he got his face blown off? You weren't there! You should have stopped him, you should have kept him safe! I can't do it all by myself, I can't change the world!" His back was rigid, his body inching towards the edge of the seat, as if he were threatening to jump up. "You fucking abandoned us both! You left us for dead on the side of the goddamn road!" He had raised his voice without knowing it. It reverberated off the walls like a tolling bell. _

_A few minutes and the bell faded and silence fell upon him as he settled back against the pew, trying to release the tension in his muscles and his voice. He took a few long drags before he spoke again. The smoke flowed through him, uncoiling the taut spring in his stomach. "But, I realized a few weeks ago that you didn't completely fuck me over." Another small smile. _

_"You brought him back to me, didn't you?" _

_Another laugh, this time almost breathless and quavering with a vicious onslaught of emotion, a potent cocktail of frustration, relief, anger, love, gratitude, and sadness. He quickly brushed the tears from his cheeks. The thought of Mello waiting for him at home, curled up in the bed sheets by himself with that lonely, empty look on his face spurred him onward. "He thinks we're fucked. He thinks we're gonna burn. I...I wish I could really tell him what I feel. I mean, what I feel _right now_. I don't..." He stopped again. It was almost too difficult for him to continue. Never had his whole being been so vulnerable. He was still too tender and sore from the scars that went deeper than just his skin. He was shaking with a fear that had been instinctually seared into his veins from birth. _

_"I think we're gonna die soon. I can tell. I mean, he never half-asses anything. There is no back-up plan this time, no rendezvous, no escape strategy. There's no room booked in Moscow, there's no hideout for us in London. This...this is gonna be the end. But, fuck, I love him!" The last words came out in a strangled sort of cry. Matt felt his throat closing up on him. "He's so scared. I'm scared. It...it isn't right. He doesn't deserve it. It's not even about Near anymore. It's about..." The words were lost on him and he felt like an utter fool._

_What the hell were they doing this for? What the hell were they throwing their lives away for?!_

_"Hell, he's only 20 years old! We're going to die before 21! It's not fair!" The redhead got to his feet, the chain on his pants jingling loudly. _

_"Why would you give him more than he could handle?!"_

_He finally stopped, breathing heavily as if he had just run a marathon. _

_If Matt was expecting a response, he was sorely disappointed. There was no reply from above, no opening of the heavens, no choirs of angels descending from the clouds to bring him the divine answer. _

_All that followed was the quiet. The quiet and stillness he had been so desperately searching for. _

_Then, the world slowly began turning again, slowly began to drift on. The sounds of the worn broom bristles brushing across the stone steps, of his own heart thundering in his ears, of the words Mello hadn't said to him when he laid out what would be their last mission, of the things that _he _hadn't said either, it all drifted by, like a leaf floating past in a stream, neither stopping nor rushing along the water's surface on it's way to the end._

_And his mind had stopped it's incessant screaming._

_It had finally ceased it's blood-curdling fight-or-flight responses, it's vehement beseeching to run as fast as he could away from his brilliant, dangerous, lovely blond and the inevitable end._

_Maybe it was just ignorance. Maybe it was just coincidence. Maybe it was the fact that in this world, there would never be salvation, that the God of the new world would never grant it._

_Or maybe, it was because that last little piece, that last little bit of confidence and knowledge, could not be forced into place. _

_Whatever the reason was, Matt knew that until that day, all he would hear would be the quiet. _

_Slowly, with a small smile, he straightened and put his cigarette to his lips. "You know," he whispered. "You're alright." As he turned and began to walk out of the church, he raised a hand and waved lazily behind him._

_"Thanks."_

Matt found himself hopelessly confused when Mello punched him viciously in the shoulder and, without allowing the redhead a moment to regain his footing, threw himself at him and kissed him forcefully. They stumbled against the railing, the frantic, desperate actions of the blond threatening to topple them over it.

Mello could feel that fire burning in his chest again. It was hotter than ever, fueled by frustration, but flaming into pure, unadulterated _adoration_.

He _adored_ Matt. Loved him so much he couldn't even stand it, could barely stand to allow Matt to love _him. _It was so intense, it was like holding a branding iron to his skin, like being smothered with hot coals.

He suddenly realized why they were here.

"I understand- I'm sorry-" he murmured between his kisses, feeling Matt's arms sliding around him when the redhead finally steadied himself. "I'll leave you be- I'm so sorry-"

"Just fucking shut up, I told you not to say that to me anymore." Matt murmured lovingly, returning the kiss with equal enthusiasm. He managed to dislodge the blond from his mouth for a few moments. "Instead, how about you explain what the hell my shoulder ever did to you to deserve that?" He was still smiling shyly, but the awkward aura that had been swirling about him like a vicious funnel cloud, prepared to touch down and rip apart the delicate bond of trust between them, had finally dissipated.

Mello wanted to do something sharp and violent, wanted to jerk Matt back towards him and kiss him until he couldn't stand, wanted to bite down on his lip and taste his blood, wanted to leave bruises on his neck with his teeth and listen to him cry out for more.

But, the light that glimmered in Matt's eyes through his tears, looked like the sun, peeking out from behind a dark thundercloud. It felt odd, to feel the sun on his skin after years spent in a storm, tossed about with nothing but his own resilience and injured pride to hold him in one piece.

It felt odd, but he didn't want it to end, he didn't want to chase it away.

So, instead, he placed his hand on Matt's cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone as the gamer's mouth sought out his palm, placing a gentle kiss and a nibble there when he found it. "Matt." The redhead stopped at the soft tone in Mello's voice, looking worried for a moment. The blond gave a weak smile, not even caring if he was still crying. "_You're_ my fucking penance."

Matt blinked a few times, looking confused.

Mello wondered if he would understand what he was trying to say.

When a wide grin spread over the gamer's lips, he knew he had.

Matt chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Mello's. Even after a minute or so, he hadn't stopped laughing. It slowly became progressively louder, and louder, until Mello started laughing too, until both of them were doubled over with laughter, holding their sides, reduced to tears of utter joy, completely forgetting that they were freezing without each other's arms to hold them.

It was hilarious.

It was pitiful.

It was fucking _honest_.

Matt had saved him, snatched him from the clutches of Hell in the most unexpected way. Every time he had placed his hands on Mello's flesh, it burned, burned so intensely, it ignited in his entire body. His fingers left invisible blisters and scars he would have been proud to show off. It left him feeling clean, renewed, completely purified and enriched, like the soil left behind in the wake of a forest fire, fertile and full of life.

Matt had given Mello a reason to live.

He no longer killed for profit, he killed to protect. He ceased his attempts to gain the notebook for power, he wanted it out of the hands of a fraud. He didn't fuck Matt, they made love.

They were still laughing, still crying when they recovered enough composure to hold one another again. Matt rubbed an arm vigorously up and down Mello's back to try and warm him and stop his shivering. "Fucking hell, Mello," he mumbled as the blond leaned down to kiss away the salty lines across his face. "You're mine too, then."

And that was why it was so fucking funny, so goddamn funny that neither of them could stop their giggles and laughs and chuckles. It was comical, in such a dark and morbidly ironic way, that a murderous, cutthroat Mafia leader and a slothful, homosexual atheist were allowed salvation, redemption, _forgiveness_.

_Mello didn't even glance up when Matt stopped in front of the lumpy armchair. He simply flipped his phone open, checked the time, then flipped it closed again with a light sigh, a noise that hardly represented the mental fatigue pressing down on him. _

_Matt recognized it, he came to know it as a very precise routine, something that Mello did approximately every minute and 24 seconds, on average. _

_He'd done absolutely nothing since they finally settled down in their new apartment in Japan. There were no outings, no jobs, nothing. Beyond one day of going over their plan for the kidnapping, all activity had ceased. Matt hadn't complained though. That single day had been a rough and grueling cycle of nonstop driving back and forth, of Mello constantly nagging him to make better time on his route out of the city, of the gamer repeatedly insisting that when it came down to it, he'd be able to make better time since he probably wouldn't be forced to observe the speed limit or other cars, of Mello snapping at him in the most venomous and supercilious tone Matt had ever heard from him that the redhead didn't "grasp the true gravity of the situation."_

_'I'd fucking understand it if you'd fucking tell me what the hell you're planning on doing,' he had countered sharply. The silence that greeted him over the cellphone spoke louder than words ever could. It was at that moment that Matt faltered most, on the very brink of breaking. He wanted to scream and cry and yell at Mello, tell him that they could run away, run to Antartica where Kira wasn't known amongst the penguins and seals and lichens. He wanted desperately to tell him that he didn't have to do this. _

_But he said nothing, hanging up with a quiet, noncommittal grunt. _

_After that, Mello just spent day after day sprawled over that dusty armchair, the circles under his eyes getting darker and darker, the color in his cheeks slowly fading away, the life in his gaze almost completely extinguished, checking the time as it slowly ticked away._

_Checking how much time they had left to live._

_It was less than 24 hours now._

_"Come on," Matt said gently, tossing Mello's jacket onto his lap. "We're going for a drive."_

_Mello finally looked up at the redhead and Matt thought he might break down right there._

_He had never seen his friend look so lost, so hopeless before._

_Still, he fought back, realizing that they'd be better off killing themselves right then and there if they both gave up._

_The smile that Matt managed to make caused any protestations that might have been on Mello's lips quickly wither away. _

_"Alright," he answered quietly._

_He let Matt drive the motorcycle, which, despite the situation, made the redhead ecstatic. He loved the bike and he hadn't been able to drive it in weeks. He forwent a helmet, as did Mello. Those types of safety precautions didn't really seem very pertinent to them anymore._

_Not to mention that the trip would have been completely worthless without feeling the biting winter wind against their faces as the sun began it's descent towards the horizon._

_They finally pulled over on a ridge, where Matt knew they would have a completely unobstructed view of the sunset. _

_"Sit down, watch the sunset with me," Matt called to the blond as he took a seat on the ground, legs spread apart. He watched as Mello slowly dismounted from the bike and walked over to him. _

_"It's freezing out here," he said as he walked up beside the redhead, though there was hardly any emphasis in his voice. "You know that, right?"_

_Matt grabbed Mello's arm and pulled him down until he was sitting between his legs, striped arms resting over the blond's shoulders and down the front of his chest. "Yeah, I know," he answered, burying his face against Mello's soft hair. "It's kind of nice though. I never really noticed the way my skin prickles when I get cold, it's interesting."_

_Mello looked down with a frown, staring at his gloved hands resting uselessly in his lap. _

_Less than 24 hours...less than a day._

_Tonight, they'd go home, make love for the last time, tell each other they loved one another, vainly and childishly wish that tomorrow wouldn't come. They'd laugh and tell each other all the things they were going to do when they finally brought down Kira and escaped unharmed. They'd silently cry and break and shatter inside, piece by piece. They'd openly cry and cling to each other for support and strength and alleviation. They would search each other for the knowledge that neither had, whether tomorrow would end badly, or whether it would end well._

_Mello had told Matt he wouldn't die, he promised him he'd be safe._

_They both knew it was a bullshit promise that he couldn't keep._

_"Look, the view's almost as nice as England," Matt murmured in his ear. _

_Mello looked up and watched the large orange orb falling from the sky, falling from the view of this half of the world. The wisps of cloud found themselves stained a deep violet as the sky blossomed with rich orange, powdery pink, and bloody red. _

_The sun would continue to rise and fall, they wouldn't. _

_Leather creaked sharply as Mello's hands tightened in his lap. He gave a choked sob and bowed his head again, hiding his face in his hand. _

_It was the end of another chapter in the world, but Mello's book was being closed forever. It would remain on a dusty library bookshelf, hopelessly unfinished, never to be opened again. The pages would yellow and tear, the text would smudge and fade, the binding would break and unravel and no one would ever know it was there. _

_He couldn't help the noises that came out of his mouth, horrified, pleading sobs, the kind of sobs that a mother makes at her son's funeral, or a lover with a broken heart, or a child who doesn't understand when his parents tell him that his puppy isn't coming back, that it wasn't just sleeping when it got hit by the neighbor's car. _

_Matt's voice was in his ear, his hands stroking his hair, rubbing his arms and back. "Don't cry, Mello," he whispered. "You'll miss it if you're crying. You should watch it, it's beautiful."_

_Mello slowly looked up again and watched through teary eyes as the watery blobs of color filled his vision. _

_It was like a song, constantly playing in his head, coming to a quiet close. The sun kept setting and Mello determined to make the most out of the ending of his book, of his song, of his life. _

_Matt was humming in his ear, some song from their childhood. He couldn't remember which one. _

_And when the sun finally disappeared beyond the horizon, the silence of the night surrounded them, leaving the final note of the song unwritten, floating just out of reach of their ears. _


	4. Marks of Religion II

A/N: Well, here we finally are! I'm gonna make this as short and sweet as possible, since this chapter is incredibly long to make up for the long break. Thank you to Konfektxcosplay, Ezmereth Moriquendi, Kiogy, M4rshMell0, Fool4Sasuke33, Demon Hiei's Girl, 00-angel, thinlimitation, Trinny Dream, Syberia Winx, Rim Greaper, and mrsjeevas. Seriously, you guys are truly the sole reason that I was able to finish this. Thank you so much. Full thanks will be in the final author's notes, which should be up by tomorrow. This is gonna be the last you hear of me until then.  
As for notes for the epilogue, I did write it with the intention that the reader interpret it a little bit on their own, so yes, you do have to read into it a bit.  
The quote in this chapter is from Stephen Crane's poem "A Man Said to the Universe."  
Lastly, this chapter is dedicated not only to all of those who have helped me out through the process of writing this, but also to Jacob, who never suffered with me, but always made sure I never suffered alone.  
Thank you for reading. Please enjoy and **don't forget to review!**

Edit: A small bit was added to the epilogue. I had left it out on accident.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of it's characters, or the poem "A Man Said to the Universe." They belong to Obata and Ohba and the lovely Mr. Crane.

* * *

Part IV - Marks (of Religion)

Matt was actually the one who had to talk Mello out of the bad idea of having sex in a church when the blond leaned up and whispered, "I want you" hotly into his ear and started running his hands up and down the redhead's chest, grinding their hips together. Mello was too far gone, too caught up in the excitement that any Wammy's child felt when they finally solved a difficult problem. Matt couldn't really blame him. Even he had briefly lost himself to it, to the sudden noises filling his head, the purrs and sighs Mello was making in his ear, the sheer feeling of everything falling perfectly into it's rightful place.

This wasn't a puzzle, it wasn't an essay, it wasn't some exam, some contrived logic problem drawn up by their elders and keepers and surrogate parents.

This was bigger. This was the final question. The definitive answer.

They had figured out their purpose, their place, why they had been born into that cruel and unforgiving world.

To live, to love, and to die.

Mello felt like an absolute idiot for a few moments. The meaning of life had been staring him in the face for twenty years and he never once realized it.

It was almost _too_ easy.

Even as Matt was gently pushing him away and telling him they should find somewhere else to go, he was still pressing urgently forward, if only to utter a few more words into his lover's ear, as if he were going to die again suddenly without being able to say them. He wanted to show Matt just who he was, how much the redhead meant to him. He wanted to say all the things he hadn't had a chance to say, hadn't been _brave_ enough to say when they were alive.

All the same, even in death, the courage was hard to come by. Mello hoped Matt couldn't see that he was blushing

"I always thought you would leave."

The control he had held over the redhead was a way to tell Matt that he wasn't allowed to hurt him, wasn't allowed to abandon him as everyone else had. It was a message, just like all the bruises, burns and scars he'd made on Matt's flesh.

They spelled out the letters _M_ - _I _- _N_ - _E_.

But he no longer held the leash, no longer had the upper hand.

He had nothing, no money, no lackeys, no power. All he had was a hideous scar devouring half of his face.

And his only friend had every right to spit in his face, stab him through the gut, and leave him to bleed in some dark and lonely alley.

Any dog will run away if you kick him hard enough.

Every day just seemed to be biding time until that moment came. Every night, beneath the moans and gasps of pleasure, he was begging and pleading with Matt to stay. Every morning he woke up with Matt beside him was a favor, a kindness, a debt that Mello couldn't repay.

Matt tensed abruptly at Mello's words, but then relaxed just as quickly, giving what sounded like a tired and exhausted sigh. "I'm a fucking dog, Mello. I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to. You ought to know that by now."

_Mello felt a muscle in his cheek twitch in irritation as he watched Matt down on the sidewalk from the balcony of their apartment. There was a small pile of cigarette butts beside the gamer's feet, turning soggy in a murky puddle of oil and rainwater on the cement. _

_"Are you done yet?" the blond called down to him. He didn't have to shout very loudly. He was only one floor up. _

_Matt leaned his head back, seemingly unsurprised that Mello was looking down at him, as if he'd been aware of his presence the whole time. "I'm sorry, what was that?" he said, his voice heavy with sarcastic civility. "I was under the impression that we weren't speaking." His eyes glittered maliciously behind orange lenses. _

_"Grow up," Mello spat, gloved hands gripping the balcony railing. "I'm sick of all this moody teenage angst bullshit."_

_Matt looked back towards the street outside the apartment building. "So you want me to be like you? Then I can have grown up, pompous, selfish angst." He scoffed. "Give me a break."_

_"I'm doing this for _you_," the older man snapped. "I don't see how that's selfish."_

_Matt wheeled around furiously, his entire body suddenly tense. It hurt to pull his muscles taut and he felt some of the cuts on his legs split open. He ignored the pain. "I haven't seen you for over a week, and then, out of the blue, you just up and tell me to fucking leave! Why the hell did you have me watch the fucking NPA, then?!" the redhead yelled, a little louder than necessary. "You're too goddamn worried about the little snags and screw ups that you can't see the big picture!"_

_Mello leaned over the railing challengingly. Testosterone and adrenaline were telling him to jump over the barrier and dare Matt to say that to his face. "And what exactly is the big picture then, hmm?" he shouted back angrily. _

_"I'd be a hell of a lot worse off with you sending me away! Fuck you and your pity party, you arrogant bastard!" A few people across the street were staring over at them now, but no one seemed brave enough to stop and intervene. They continued on their way, quickening their pace ever so slightly, stealing fearful glances out of the corner of their eyes. _

_Mello glowered down at the redhead, drumming his fingers on the metal rail. "You'd know about pity parties, wouldn't you?" he responded icily. "Why don't you roll your sleeves up for me then, Matty?"_

_Matt jerked back slightly, his bravado dwindling. "Fuck you," he muttered, turning away again. _

_"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Mello exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Every time you don't get your way, you throw a fucking temper tantrum! That's why I want you to get the hell out! Go back to London! Don't look for me either, because I can't fucking take it!"_

_Another cigarette was lit. Matt seemed unfazed by the outburst. "Glad to know I'm such a burden."_

_"You're not a fucking burden, you idiot!" Mello pressed. "It's me! I can't take care of you! I can't be there to keep you sane every hour of the day!" Matt looked up curiously at these words. Mello paused, gritting his teeth together. Matt's eyes on him calmed his fraught nerves. _

_"You're not the only one in this," he continued, quieter this time. "Every time I have to look at those things on your arms and legs, I want to puke. Because it kills me to think of how bad it had to get for you to start again, because I keep thinking of that ugly bitch who had the audacity to call herself your mother-" _

Because I wasn't there to stop them.

_Matt sneered again, the words hitting the wrong chord in him. "Please, don't give me that shit. It's not like you'll even be able to pick 'em out once they heal up."_

_Mello frowned, looking a bit hurt, though Matt couldn't tell from so far away. Mello was a master at disguising emotions. "You really think that?"_

_"Yes, I do," the redhead insisted. _

_"You've got three on the top of your left arm, four of them stretching at even intervals along the outside. You got the first three back when we met up again, and these four are brand new. On your forearm you have five, each one a different length. There are two very small ones near your wrist."_

_Matt's eyes went wide and absentmindedly began counting off on his fingers. He'd memorized every single one, photographic memory burning the image into Mello's mind forever. _

_"On your right arm, you've got-"_

_"Alright, alright!" Matt interrupted. "I get it!" _

_"Good," Mello stated, grinning smugly. He turned to retreat back into his slightly warmer apartment. "Now head on down to the airport. There should be a ticket waiting for you at the counter."_

_"I'm not leaving."_

_Mello froze but quickly regained his composure. "Yes, you are," he said firmly, pinning the redhead with a stern gaze._

_"No, I'm not," Matt replied, smiling fearlessly. _

_"I just fucking explained this all to you, so what the hell is your problem?"_

_The gamer flicked his cigarette butt to the ground with a bold smirk. "My problem is that giant stick you've got shoved up your ass."_

_The blond flushed. "I do not have a-"_

_"Yes, you do," the redhead teased, gleeful at Mello's flustered state. "But, I think I know something else you can shove up there that would make it all better." _

_Mello looked away, trying to ignore the way his body suddenly flared with heat at Matt's statement. _

_He was supposed to be angry, not horny. _

_Though, the two of them had a habit of getting those two emotions confused. _

_"If you're going to make me leave, you might as well shoot me right here." Mello looked back down to the redhead who was smiling warmly up at him. "It'll save me a plane ride, at least."_

_The blond frowned again, his foot tapping on the balcony slowly, nervously. He chewed thoughtfully at his lip, wishing he'd brought a bar of chocolate out with him. His hand clutched awkwardly at the rail. _

_Matt took the goggles off and placed them on top of his head. "Come on, Mello, we both know you'd be fucked without me. You're too lazy to go out and buy your own chocolate."_

_Mello paused, letting the corner of his mouth curl up slightly into a small smirk. _

_"Get back in here, you stubborn bastard. I'm going to make you pay for that 'stick up the ass' comment."_

They found what appeared to be a nursery in the church and took a quilt from a box decorated with white puffy sheep painted with sponges. Across the street from the church was a field of tall grass. They stomped out an area flat and decided to make it their bed for the night. Neither of them felt like going home.

"It'd be too depressing to go back," Mello said quietly, bouncing slightly on his heels. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't eager to get into Matt's pants.

That wasn't new.

"I wonder how many kids have thrown up on this thing," Matt joked as he spread the quilt out over the ground. "I still can't believe we just stole this, from a church no less."

Mello didn't even wait for Matt to finish straightening the blanket. He pushed him aside and sat down heavily on the center, effectively preventing the redhead from being able to adjust it any further. "We didn't steal it," he said. "They'll find it here tomorrow and then they can have it back."

Matt snickered as he sat down next to Mello, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "Yeah, after we're done fucking on it." The redhead moved to lower Mello down onto the blanket but ended up dropping him unceremoniously when his arm suddenly stiffened and jerked away.

"What the fuck, Matt?!" he yelled as the pain of his head slamming against the ground began throbbing through his skull.

"Ah, sorry," the gamer said sheepishly, his voice and expression pained. His shoulder was hunched into his body and he was holding onto it gingerly. "It's just my shoulder..."

The blond jumped forward, removing Matt's coat as carefully as he could, tossing it aside and jerking Matt's collar down enough to at least begin to see the injured joint. All the while Matt kept protesting, insisting he was alright.

Mello ignored him completely.

He had hurt him, he let his temper get the better of him again.

He had vowed he would never hurt Matt again. It was a difficult promise to keep, especially when Matt seemed to enjoy the pain. There was a limit, Mello knew that. A year and a half of pushing past that limit and listening to Matt's sobbing and screaming was proof enough.

Still, when Mello bit him hard enough to break the skin, when he would pin him to the bed in the mornings and dig his knuckles sharply between the redhead's vertebrate to try and get him up and moving about, when he'd slam him against the wall in a sudden fit of passion and lust, clutching at his body, pulling so hard at his shirt he could hear seams popping and breaking, Matt would make that little noise in the back of his throat. It was almost like a mewl that slowly turned into an all-out whine for more halfway through.

He started making that noise when Mello gave his shoulder a rough jerk to get him to stop trying to push the blond's hands away. He did cease his fighting, though he turned his attention to Mello's ear, still producing the delectable sound.

"Matt, if you keep doing that..." Mello began ominously.

"Yeah?" Matt dragged his tongue agonizingly slowly along the shell of Mello's ear, as if daring him to make a move. "What are you going to do about it?"

The blond hesitated, fingers tightening around Matt's forearms. Matt was asking for it, but Mello was too scared to show any force. He was balancing along a very precarious edge, with Matt holding his hand to keep him steady. Push too far and he knew Matt would let go and allow him to topple over that cliff.

He gave a low growl when Matt suddenly nipped sharply at his neck.

"Come on, Mello," he said, sounding slightly irritated. "I'm not made of fucking glass." He began to suck lightly over the spot he'd just bitten.

Mello shoved him roughly onto his back and stood up, throwing his jacket off, exposing bare arms to the cold. Goose bumps prickled up on his skin, but the air felt refreshing on his flesh, already beginning to burn with want for this sly and mischievous redhead.

Matt could really be a whore sometimes.

He was looking at him with a challenging smirk, propped up on his elbows, eyes burning boldly under the shade of red hair, like some sort of dangerous creature from a Grimm fairy tale.

"Take 'em off," Mello ordered, gesturing with a sharp nod of his head to Matt's clothes.

"Them? Can you be more specific, Mels?" Matt tilted his head and smiled coyly, putting on an act of confusion and innocence. He reached to his neck and pulled the goggles over his head. "Like this you mean?" He held the goggles above his head before extending his arm out and dropping them onto the quilt, all in a slow and deliberate motion. He made a choked whining noise that sounded distinctly like a bit back giggle.

"Don't fuck around with me," Mello warned, though the bite in his voice still held an element of playfulness, the way it always had when they were kids, wrestling over who would get the last chocolate brownie at dinner (Mello always won).

Matt's smirk only grew. "Alright, alright, I got it, Mels." He knew that the blond hated the nickname. Matt only got away with calling him by it in private, and even then it was a risky endeavor. He considered just letting Mello have his way, but now that he finally had the old dominant Mello back, he didn't feel like giving it to him easy.

Besides, he could tell by the bulge in Mello's pants that the blond was enjoying the veiled disobedience. It had been quite some time since he'd taken orders from Mello in bed.

Then again, this wasn't really a bed.

It was a quilt with fading stains that looked disturbingly like vomit, thrown out in a fucking field in the middle of a frigid January evening.

They'd had sex in weirder places.

Still propped up on one elbow, Matt brought a hand to his lips and unhurriedly pulled the glove off with his teeth. He watched Mello's eyes widen momentarily at the sight, saw his body jerk as it resisted the urge to pounce on the little fucking tease.

"This enough?" Matt questioned. "No, you'll probably want the other one off too, right?" He repeated the same action with his other hand. "Because you're a demanding bitch, aren't you, Mels?" The redhead's lips twitched up into a wicked grin, knowing that Mello wouldn't be able to resist a full out challenge.

The blond sprang faster than Matt had anticipated, but he wasn't complaining when the blond had his teeth pressing down into the curve of his neck. He let out a breathless moan as a sharp canine pierced the flesh and a small bubble of red slowly emerged before rolling down to the dip at his collar bone.

"You don't ever fucking listen, do you?" Mello snapped, sitting up and reaching down to grab the hem of Matt's shirt. "I told you to get naked and you're still sitting here fully clothed!" He jerked the shirt up and began pulling it over Matt's head, the gamer's arms limp and unhelpful.

"Hey, I am not fully clothed!" Matt shot back, trying to sound indignant, though the laughter bubbling in his throat ruined the attempt. "I took off my gloves and my goggles! I thought you'd be happy! I must say that I feel pretty scandalous right now without them and - Ow! Ow! Ow! Mercy! Mercy!" Mello had finally gotten the garment over his head, but it was twisted up in Matt's arms. At the redhead's cries of pain, he froze.

"What's wrong?"

"Shoulder..." he said simply. "Doesn't feel good."

Mello sat back to allow Matt to remove his own shirt, frowning slightly as the redhead warily lifted it off of his arms and tossed it aside with his jacket. "Mercy? Is that our safeword now?" He smiled weakly as Matt lay back again, inviting the blond down once more.

"Sure," Matt said with a small shrug. "I don't know how much use we'll get out of it though." He grinned. "Think they let you fuck in Heaven?"

Mello hid his smile against Matt's skin as he placed his lips over the large bruise beginning to form on the redhead's shoulder. "If you want it," he whispered. "You get what you want in Heaven, right?"

The gamer laughed softly, letting his head fall back and looking up at the sky. For the first time since he'd left England, he could see the stars perfectly. No light pollution, no clouds.

His laughter turned into a soft gasp as Mello slowly moved down his lover's body, his lips tracing every single scar, bruise, and blemish.

The tip of his tongue traced over the marks he had allowed, silently apologizing for those selfishly created. His lips pressed tender kisses to the marks that others made, stomach burning with anger for the senseless destruction of a brilliant and beautiful boy. His teeth nibbled lightly at the marks left in the wake of a broken heart, produced in an attempt to fill the emptiness caused by his foolish pride and impatience.

All the while, Matt's breathing grew heavier and faster, his fingers pressing into Mello's back, arms, hair, whatever he could reach. Mello's tongue ran over the jagged scar over his hip and the redhead arched up, moaning softly.

The sound made Mello hungry for more. He bit down on the same spot and was rewarded with a long, low groan from Matt, his body twisting and stretching over the blanket, hands gripping the faded fabric. "Fuck, Mello," he breathed, fingers leisurely twisting in the golden locks, reminiscent of lazy Sunday mornings and rainy afternoons. "You're always such a tease."

The older man grinned, licking along the waistband of Matt's pants, then up the flat stomach, his tongue dipping into the redhead's navel. "You thought I was going to make it simple?" He went to work on Matt's belt, unbuckling and removing it within seconds.

Matt laughed breathlessly as he felt Mello's skilled fingers pop the button of his fly and slowly pull down the zipper. "Nothing is ever simple with you." Mello helped him shimmy out of his jeans and he inhaled sharply as he lay almost completely unshielded from the cold. His legs began to curl into his body to warm himself, an instinctive motion that he did without realizing it. Mello roughly grabbed his ankles and pulled them down.

"Admit it, Matty," Mello purred, using his own pet name for his red haired lover. "You love it." He slid up the gamer's body, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other cupping his growing erection through his boxers, smirking at the sound of Matt's shuddering moan.

"Yes," he heard the redhead whisper. "I do love it."

_Matt sighed heavily and leaned forward against the steering wheel. The bright headlights shining into his eyes were colored orange through his goggles. For his entire life, the redhead had always been afraid of the spotlight, always seeking to edge away from everyone's gaze. He hated being the center of attention. He was quite content to stand on the edge and do his work backstage. _

_And now, here he was, hundreds of bright lights glaring at him, thousands of eyes resting squarely upon him, and the entire world (okay, maybe just Japan) had their gaze firmly fixed upon what he was doing and what he might do next. _

_He tapped his gloved fingers a few times against the worn steering wheel. "Well, this is a bit of a sticky situation, isn't it?" _

_He had a few options available to him now._

_He could give himself up, step out of his car, and "come along quietly," thus allowing Mello extra time as the law enforcement officers tried to squeeze an answer out of him (that wasn't going to happen). _

_He could take the "crazy son of a bitch" option and go out, guns blazing and a huge ass grin on his face. He had enough ammunition in the trunk to take out at least half of them before getting himself shot down. _

_Or, he could simply drive straight through them, risk getting shot halfway through and undoubtedly run over numerous innocent onlookers. _

_'Don't do anything stupid,' Mello had told him. 'Just do what they want and you'll be fine. They'll throw you in prison for awhile, Roger will pull some strings, and you'll be free as a bird and on a plane back to London.'_

_Matt never asked what would happen to Mello. He didn't want to know. It wasn't going to matter anyway. There would be no truth, the media would likely mutilate the facts beyond all recognition. Mello would die anonymously, a hero forever lost in the shadow of a false god. _

_He couldn't get that image out of his mind, the memory of the first and last time Mello would ever set aside a chocolate bar and let it sit unfinished. It was still sitting in the same place that morning, untouched and forgotten._

_They all had their guns pointed at him, the eyeless, soulless, shadows surrounding, hovering, circling, like hungry vultures._

_Faith. That was what made him step out of that car, let him face those weapons without so much as a shiver or a hitch. _

_He had faith in Mello. He was willing to put his very life in his best friend's hands._

_And if he was going to follow that insane bastard to the grave, then so be it. _

_"Hey, hey!" he called out with a grin. "Since when are the Japanese allowed to carry around such nice guns?" _

_No answer. So, they weren't in the mood for a joke? Too bad..._

_"My friend was the one who took Takada. I suppose you have all sorts of questions for me," the redhead continued, hands raised obediently by his head. _

_He was waiting for the punch line, waiting for them to lower their weapons and for the _real _police to show up. _

_Or maybe this joke just wasn't funny. _

_The gun in the back of his jacket felt like a cattle prod at the base of his neck, egging him on, telling him to take it and fight until the very end. He couldn't resist it, his hands were slowly moving behind his head to grasp it._

_'See you on the other side, Mello,' he thought to himself. _

_If there was another side._

_"You couldn't possibly shoot at-"_

_It wasn't so much the first bullet piercing his body that caused him to jerk backwards. It was more the sudden staccato beat of shots fired in rapid, sporadic succession. The first one hit his shoulder, the second, his stomach, the third, his hand. Or was it his lung? He lost track. _

_He could vaguely hear them hitting the car, or maybe they were hitting him. Maybe he was made of metal and steam and oil. _

_It didn't really fucking matter, did it?_

_Metal rusts, steam dissipates, oil burns off. Flesh rots, organs disintegrate, bone hardens and fossilizes._

_And eventually, the sun will explode and the world will burn away and all meaningful and recognizable beings will disappear into celestial dust and space trash. _

_There would be no one looking down on them, no being who had enough beyond basic instinct to give a damn. All that would remain would be bacteria and viruses and simple elements. _

_Was there really a higher being out there sitting beyond the edge of the universe? Were they just some sick little terrarium on the shelf of some divine entity who would point and ogle and laugh as the pitiful humans ran around frantically like worthless, little seamonkeys? _

_Or was it a kind being? Someone who would take the injured little pet from the tank, riddled with bullet holes or seared through the flesh and down to the bone, tend to their wounds, then place them in a new tank, cleaner and bigger with the promise of eternal life? _

_Guess he'd be finding out real soon. _

_There was really no point to any of it, studying hard, working hard, loving hard, honesty, kindness, friends. It was all pretty meaningless when Matt thought about it. He could work his entire life, create bonds stronger than anything with the one he loved, climb his way to the top of society and enjoy it's spoils, learn as much as he could and revel in the vast expanse of knowledge._

_It didn't matter. Nothing did. _

_Because a bunch of dumb, stupid gorillas with guns could strip it all away in seconds, leaving no proof that he ever existed, except a disgusting stain on the pavement. _

_Perhaps that was why the stupidest, most useless thoughts went through his head as they turned him into bloody swiss cheese. Things like, 'Shit, I left a light on in the apartment,' and 'Fuck you, dammit, that's my joystick hand!' and 'Don't shoot my tank, I just filled it up with gas last night!'_

_Even amidst all the pointless mental babble, anger pierced through like a knife. _

_Because no one, _no one_, was allowed to leave marks on him but Mello._

_And when the gunfire ceased and he stumbled back wearily and fell heavily against the car, darkness chewing away at the edges of his vision before overtaking it completely, when the cigarette fell from his lips, his lungs unable to take in any more oxygen, when his sense of sight and smell and touch left him, leaving him with only a few lingering seconds of "Death is the only appropriate punishment for defying Kira," that vein of fury would still be pounding powerfully in his neck until the very last pump of his heart. _

_Those who thought they knew him, Linda, Near, Roger, would say that if Matt had, indeed, died with regret, it would have been regret for not having lived a fuller life, regret for not having worked harder for first place, regret for not being allowed a long, peaceful existence with his lover, regret for being silent for so many years. _

_That was why it was so pointless, so goddamn _unfair_. _

_No one would ever know the truth, because the only person who ever really knew him was going to be dead too._

_Did Matt die with regret?_

_Yes, he did._

_He died regretting that he wasn't able to make those bastards suffer for scarring him without his permission, that these oafish brutes were going to be the last ones to mark him. _

_He died regretting that the last mark left on his body was not made by the man he loved. _

Mello bit his lip in concern at the sight of pain on Matt's face as he slowly pressed into him.

He stopped. They were silent for a few moments, the only noises were the sound of Matt's ragged breathing and the rustling of fabric as his hands gripped the quilt before relaxing, only to clench again with every inch that Mello edged into him.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked breathlessly.

Matt's head was tipped to the side, pressing his right cheek into the quilt, his hair spilling over in front of his face. He opened one eye slightly, chest slowly heaving. "You should have asked me that a couple of years ago," he laughed, the sound broken by slow gasps.

Matt wasn't just talking about sex. Mello could tell by his lover's wistful smile.

"We hit a wall, didn't we?" Mello muttered, releasing Matt's hips and leaning down. He stopped when the redhead squirmed in pain, his hands shooting up to keep Mello away, to keep him from leaning down any further.

"I guess we'd... rather die...than stop...moving..." the gamer gasped. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of Matt's face before disappearing into his hair.

They had never stopped moving, never paused to rest, not once in their lives. They had careened through school, graduating with what was equivalent to a Master's degree at the age of 15. They flew from childhood to adulthood without ever looking back, killing people in cold blood and hacking the mainframes of world powers. They dashed from friendship, to violence, to love. They bolted from delinquents to mobsters to detectives, leaving only smoking tire marks in their wake. Everything was done quickly, the constant push to get to the top of the pile driving them onward, with Mello stepping on everyone's feet and hands and heads to make it there and Matt always beneath him to give him a leg up when he needed it.

Then they'd hit the wall of martyrdom.

Matt's hands moved from pushing on Mello's shoulders to trail lightly down his spine. Making sure to move carefully this time, the blond lowered himself down, rocking his hips gently as he traced his finger tips over the bruises he'd left on Matt's neck. He was rewarded with a moan and Matt's chest pressing into his, skin slick with sweat sliding and slipping against one another.

"No," the blond said breathlessly, watching as his tapered fingers sank into the red locks, moist and matted from sweat. "We broke through is all." Letting himself rest down completely on the gamer, he slipped a hand between them and placed it down on the center of Matt's chest, fingers spread. He stared down into the brown eyes beneath him, hazy and drifting in and out of focusing on his lover above him. "Your heart hasn't stopped pounding."

Matt actually laughed at this statement, humor flaming dimly in the fog of lust. "Guess I never stopped running then."

Indeed, there was a thundering rhythm beating beneath Mello's palm. It reminded him of the sound of a crowd of children running across wood floors, or the amplified tapping of video game buttons, or the recoil of repeatedly firing a gun, or the arrhythmia of a heart attack. "You sound pretty alive for a dead man," the blond murmured, kissing the full lips turned up into an amused smile. He realized Matt's chest was rising and falling rapidly and his hips were moving in small jerks that held little power behind them, as if he were trying to keep himself busy. Mello hadn't realized how long it had been since Matt had been bottom. "Everything okay?"

Matt nodded, eyes clouded over. He reached up and wound his arms around the blond's neck, pulling him down for another kiss, hot and sloppy this time. "Everything's great, now enough with all the touchy-feely moments. We've got a fucking safe word." He flashed a grin. "Give me reason to use it."

Mello returned the smirk, irises blazing to life with bright green danger. He pushed himself up before guiding Matt's legs around him. He felt the redhead shudder gently as Mello took Matt's hands in his own.

Without warning, the blond pinned the gamer's hands to the quilt and thrust his hips forward sharply in one smooth, swift motion, all the while wearing a Cheshire grin.

The redhead let out a hoarse moan, his body tensing and thrashing briefly until Mello abruptly began a new pace, rocking slowly into him, releasing one hand to trail a finger down a trembling jaw, along the fluttering pulse in the smooth neck, over the dark hickey's across the collarbone.

Down, down, down, right back to the heart that was pumping so furiously and uselessly beneath warm, shimmering flesh.

Matt's free hand was clutching at his shoulder, his grip tense with nervous anticipation, waiting for the next onslaught of harsh movements that were sure to come. "I was under the impression that this would involve a little more sex than that," the redhead breathed impatiently.

"You know," Mello drawled, delighting in the whimper that passed Matt's lips as the blond's hips made another sharp jerk forward, sending tremors of pleasure and pain coursing through the younger man's body. "I could probably rip your heart out of your chest right here."

"I don't fucking need it anymore, go right on ahead," Matt said when he had finally stopped shaking. "But, if you decide not to, I could think of a few places a bit lower you could occupy your time with," he added, motioning with his head towards the fingers that were still lazily drawing circles over the gamer's chest.

They were covered in sweat, droplets twinkling like stars, scattered over arms, legs, back, neck. The perspiration chilled rapidly in the air, but it brought no relief from the flames surrounding them, turning the air thick and hot, causing Matt's entire body to flush as Mello's hips set a pace in rhythm with the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, his hand sliding over the gleaming abs and taut stomach until it reached Matt's hardness, fingers closing around him without hesitation, his hand moving nimbly over the hot, silky skin.

Matt's body curled and stretched as the blond thrust roughly into him, mellifluous moans and sighs creating music amidst the ragged breathing.

He was the instrument and Mello the musician, his fingers moving along the redhead's member as if they were the keys of a piano, the frets of a guitar, the strings of a harp. He pressed bruises into Matt's arms with his fingers, each mark another melody drawn out on his body. He left more of them on the gamer's neck, listening as the whimpers and groans grew louder.

Matt clawed at Mello's back as he pleaded for more and the blond eagerly responded, his hips picking up a faster tempo, inscribing note after note on his lover's body with his lips, teeth, hands, nails. A long, quavering whole note, a string of slurred sixteenths, a line of uneasy accidentals, all carved out in darkened skin and teeth marks.

"Oh, God...Mello!" Matt gasped, clutching at the blond's neck. "I'm gonna-" Matt suddenly cut off, his lips parting to release an unrestrained moan, his whole body shivering and jerking as his hot seed spilled onto their chests and over Mello's fingers.

The sight of the redhead alone, so wild and uncontrollable, clinging to the blond as if he were the fucking cure for lung cancer, was enough to drive Mello straight into the blissful oblivion, his nails digging into Matt's hip as he came, filling the redhead with the thick warmth.

When the fireworks exploding before Mello's eyes finally ceased, he looked down at the redhead spread beneath him. His eyes were drifting shut, his hands were shaky against Mello's arms and chest, he was covered in nicks and bruises.

It was the loveliest symphony ever composed, the sheet music penned over parchment colored skin.

The blond slumped, gasping for air, smiling slightly. His fingers wandered over the lesions pensively. The sun was peeking over the horizon, but they would sleep through sunrise, curled up against one another as the world went on it's way.

"You're mine," Mello finally managed to say, lowering himself and taking Matt into his arms.

The bruises proved it. That was why he always left them where they could be seen, too high up for the redhead to hide them under his shirt, too dark to hide in even the dim lighting of the bars. Matt belonged to him. No one else could touch him, mark him, hurt him.

Never again.

"No where else I'd rather be," he heard Matt murmur sleepily.

Mello agreed wearily as he rolled off of the redhead, slowly beginning his descent into slumber. He opened his mouth to ask Matt if he'd hurt him at all, but the redhead was too quick for him.

"If you start apologizing and ruin this perfectly wonderful moment, I'll never have sex with you again."

The blond went silent, tucking his head under Matt's chin with a small smile. He felt Matt press a kiss to the top of his head, quietly saying "I love you" against his hair before cuddling up as close as he could to the blond's chest. In his hand, he clutched an edge of the quilt, drawing it over them and doing his best to wrap the two of them up in it's protective warmth.

_Mello slammed his fist irritably on the dash as he heard Takada let out another shuddering gasp behind him. He could feel the cold metal of his rosary cutting into his gloved hands which had a death grip on the small crucifix._

_"Just fucking _do it_!" He ground out. _

_He gagged, feeling as if he were going to throw up from anxiety. He hoped she would get it over with before that happened. _

_He didn't want to die in a puddle of his own vomit. _

_Desperately, he wished for tears to come, to cry his eyes out over his dead lover, over his premature death._

_Nothing would come, he had put up a wall around himself that was too high for even him to see over._

_Didn't people cry, scream, plead when they saw death coming? Wasn't that what normal, human, sane people did?_

_Though the blond had to admit he fit none of those categories._

_He was not normal, he was not human, he was not sane._

_Letting out a ragged breath, he hunched over, pressing the rosary to his lips, muttering as many prayers as he could think of. _

_He prayed for forgiveness for the men and women he had killed, for the cruelty he had shown others, for lusting after Matt. He apologized for the lies he had told others, for being so flawed and corrupt._

_Never once did he ask for forgiveness or apologize for loving Matt. _

_It would have been a slap in the face to the amazing act of loyalty his lover had just shown him. _

_Instead, he prayed for salvation._

_'Keep him safe,' he begged the Lord. 'Forgive him, spare him, keep him safe by your side.'_

_Just as he swore to take Matt's place in Hell, to walk through the fires of eternal punishment for the man who loved more freely, lived more honestly, and led a better life than anyone Mello had ever met, he felt an unbearable pressure in his chest, followed by a painful tightening._

_His pulse went haywire in his ears, becoming weak and rapid as he gasped for air, clutching at his chest, frantically trying to finish one final prayer. _

_The inside of the truck spun before him, fading rapidly in and out of focus, pain shooting through his jaw and his arms. His surroundings fell away and he saw Matt before his eyes, wearing a lazy smirk, a lit cigarette between his lips, goggles hanging limp around his neck. _

_He never took the time to notice how soft his skin was, how nice he smelled in the evenings, how his tongue would sometimes poke out of the corner of his mouth when he played his video games._

_He began to selfishly wish for more time, desperate not to blindly careen into the unfamiliar, but he stopped himself as his vision left him and he could no longer even bear to breathe, uttering one word to solidify his resolve. _

_"Amen."_

It wasn't the sun in their eyes that woke them up the next morning, it was the rain.

Mello awoke when he felt something cold hit his forehead, quickly jerking to life as more frigid drops came down upon them. He roughly shook Matt to wake him, who, still half asleep and oblivious to the rain, greeted him with a smile and a mumbled "good morning."

"It's past 1 in the afternoon," Mello said impatiently, reaching across Matt to grab his clothes. "And it's raining, you idiot! Get up and get dressed!"

Matt slowly sat up as Mello dressed, using his hand to shield his face from the rain. "You're not a morning person, Mello," he pouted, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

Mello quickly pulled on his leather pants with an irritated expression, doing all he could to keep them from getting wet. "Even if I were, it's not morning!" he reminded the redhead.

If he could have, Mello would have avoided sleep all together. It was more of a nuisance than anything. The hours he spent asleep were perfectly good for being productive. So much more could have been done in 20 years if he hadn't spent a third of it _sleeping_.

Matt was just beginning to dress by the time Mello had finished, slipping his arms through the sleeves of his jacket with a disgruntled noise. The fur lining was already a bit damp. He shivered as more rain pelted him in the head, his hair sticking uncomfortably to the side of his neck.

"I thought you said we only had to wait until the 28th," the blond snapped, pulling his hood roughly over his head.

Matt pulled his jacket on, eyes still drooping with fatigue. "I said _maybe_, Mello," he corrected. "I don't know any more about what the hell is going on than you do."

Mello glowered at the redhead as he pulled his goggles over his eyes.

He was beginning to harbor a greater and greater dislike for this afterlife. It was boring, it was inexplicable, and it was _completely devoid of any chocolate_.

The irate chocoholic turned away from his lover with a snarl, his hands awkwardly clenching together, clutching at nothing but air. He began to realize that it had been more than 24 hours since his last bar.

"It was warm when we first got here, wasn't it?" Matt said abstractly, thinking aloud. "It's pretty damn cold now, wouldn't you say?" The familiar click of a lighter followed Matt's words.

"That's right, Matt, reminding me about it is really going to make it better," Mello spat sarcastically.

Mello felt like a fucking crack addict desperate for his next fix. There was no chocolate in his pocket to reach for. He wasn't completely sure if they _could_ eat, but the blond figured that, if they could get rained on, they had damn well better be able to eat.

If the Devil had appeared before him at that moment, telling him that Hell was filled with chocolate, Mello was sure he would have denounced God on the spot.

He felt his anger surge as Matt laughed sourly behind him. "Geez, when did Mello the Bitch get here?"

He spun on his heel and faced the scowling redhead, eyeing the cigarette between his lips with intense loathing. "About the same time as Matt the Useless Nag, I suppose," the blond retorted coldly.

He should have cared that the gamer looked deeply hurt at the comment, but his brain was moving too quickly towards a frenzied panic to notice.

"I thought you would have tired yourself out last night," Matt said with a sneer. "But I see you're never too tired to bitch at me."

Looking like a drenched and very agitated cat, Mello strode forward and snatched the cigarette from between his lips, smashing it violently underneath his heel. He'd be damned if Matt was going to smoke in front of him while he slowly went crazy from withdrawal.

Matt had him pinned to the soaking quilt in the blink of an eye, cheeks red with fury, the fur lined hood flying back off the head of blond hair. "What the fuck is your problem?!" he shouted at the older man, his hands shaking as he tried to keep them from punching his lover in the face.

Mello's hands were around his neck, his grip tightening threateningly. "I'm fucking glad I didn't stick around in the mornings," he said menacingly, ignoring the pain in his back from slamming into the ground. "Because you're only useful if you've got your nose in front of a goddamn computer or my dick in your mouth."

Again, the redhead looked hurt, even through all the rage.

"Fuck you," the blond snarled. "Fuck you and your precious fucking nicotine!"

Selfishly, he wanted Matt to suffer with him, to be just as angry and paranoid and miserable.

His tongue darted out of his mouth and ran over his lips anxiously. Not even a trace of sweetness left.

Matt seemed to notice the motion, his eyes slowly softening and glowing with sudden realization. "Holy fucking hell," he sighed in exasperation, his hands loosening around Mello's upper arms. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"You're the one who leapt at me," Mello muttered, his hands still firm around the gamer's windpipe. His mind was waging a bloody battle between his love for Matt and his need for chocolate, and the chocolate was definitely winning.

"If you'll let me up, I'll explain all the reasons why what you just did was completely asinine." The younger man winced slightly as Mello's grip tightened.

"Calling me stupid isn't helping your case much."

"Strangling me won't do you much good, either," the redhead shot back.

Mello gave Matt a murderous look before releasing his hold and allowing him to get to his feet. He ignored the hand that Matt offered him, getting to his feet on his own.

"First off," Matt began, his hand digging into his pocket. "_Do not_ do that again. Second of all -" His gloved hand emerged from his pocket. "Stop talking in fucking riddles and just tell me what the hell you want next time." Mello looked down to see that Matt was holding out a chocolate bar wrapped in gold foil.

He took it, eyes wide in disbelief. He didn't remember seeing the redhead snatch it from the cupboards back at the apartment. "Where the hell did you get this?" he asked, looking back up at his lover.

The redhead shrugged, trying to hold back a smug smile. "I nicked it from your stash a little while after you left with the bike. Thought you might want it."

Mello stared at him incredulously for a moment before his shoulders slumped tiredly. "Matt..." he began softly. "You knew I wasn't coming back."

How the hell did he always manage to do it? How the hell did Matt always manage to needle his way past the blond's emotional defenses?

He had just been ready to choke the redhead to death with a fury that most people would have pissed their pants if confronted with.

Now, he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around the man and hug him.

"Hey, I'm allowed to hope," Matt countered, producing a cigarette from his pocket.

"Since when the hell have our hopes ever been fulfilled?" the blond asked cynically as he tore off the shimmering wrapper.

"About 3 years ago," Matt replied as the blond stalked past him to stare out towards the buildings in the distance, just across the street. "Back in that bar in LA."

The snap of chocolate between his teeth felt like utter euphoria to the blond, inwardly moaning as the candy melted smoothly over his tongue. His thoughts, scattered and splintered, slowly began to piece back together and his brain returned to normal working conditions.

A particularly large rain drop plopped down right on the part in his hair and slid chillingly over his scalp. He shuddered at the unpleasant sensation and pulled his hood back on.

"So, what now?" Matt asked, stepping up beside him.

Mello pursed his lips in thought around the bar of chocolate. "The 28th..." he murmured. "1 o'clock..."

Matt gave him a curious look as he lit up another cigarette, looking a bit wary. "What about it?"

The blond tilted his head back slightly, narrowing his eyes as he stared up into the downpour and the swirling, ominous clouds. Was it a sign? Was Near doomed to failure? Would he really miss the opportunity Mello had left for him?

It would all have been in vain if he had. He tensed and snapped off another chunk of chocolate.

He hesitated. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to think about it, he didn't want the story to end.

Seeing it would make it real. Viewing it with his own eyes would make his sacrifice seem so much smaller. He imagined a victory with a flourish, with a bang, with Near singing praises to him and the entire world would know of their contribution.

Near would sing no praises and Kira would simply fade away.

But, just as Matt said, he was allowed to hope.

Then again, hope had gotten him killed.

He felt Matt take his hand and he squeezed it tightly.

"It might be healthy to put this to bed, Mello," he whispered, sensing the blond's reluctance.

They stood still for a moment, staring up at the sky, wondering what was just beyond the churning mass of rain and darkness, if it would be home, or if it was just a dream.

And they stood, two unseen figures against the rain, standing firm against the icy torrent.

"The wharf," Mello finally said. "Yellow box."

He turned to the gamer and flashed a maniacal grin.

"That's where it ends."

_Matt's eyes slowly fluttered open as Mello stepped up to the edge of the bed. He was already dressed, already prepared to go, even though he wasn't due to leave for another three hours._

_Three hours and that would be it. There would be no turning back._

_Matt tensed visibly, the arm hanging over the edge of the bed suddenly tightening. The muscles in his back rippled under smooth skin. Each scar seemed to creep along, up his spine, over his shoulder blades, like worms, like _leeches_. _

_The redhead had been expecting a rude awakening, just like every other morning. Instead, Mello leaned over and lightly kissed him on the back of his shoulder. _

_"It's quarter past 10," he felt the blond whisper against his back, lithe fingers drifting down his side to his hip. "It's time to get up."_

_The gamer relaxed, letting out a shuddering sigh as a shiver coursed through his body at the contact. "In a minute," he murmured into the sheets. He reached out and blindly clutched at Mello's arm, tugging gently. "Come on, lie down."_

_Mello gently pulled away, frowning slightly. "I can't. I have work to do."_

_He heard Matt grumble loudly as he turned and walked over to the laptop sitting on the table across the room. "You always have work to do," he complained. "It's a wonder we ever get to fuck with all the work you _have_ to do." He raised one hand to put finger quotes around the word "have." _

_Mello ignored him and sat down to begin his work, which consisted entirely of reviewing their plans, confirming his spot in Takada's squad of guards, making sure that their routes out of the city would be unobstructed. _

_It only took him about twenty minutes to complete all the necessary tasks and arrangements. He had finished a majority of the final preparations the night before. _

_There wasn't much one could do with two hours to live._

_He leaned his head back on the musty couch, his mind moving at a mile a minute._

_Thoughts of the past, dreams of the future, numbers and statistics of innumerable, worthless text books, faces and places that seemed so far away, they all raced around as he tried to cling to them in vain. _

_He grimaced in pain as a migraine sprang up, massaging his temples with his fingers. "Just get it over with," he muttered, as if he were speaking to Death himself, begging him to bring down the guillotine and end it quickly. _

_He didn't cry. He didn't feel very sad, he just felt impatient. He supposed he should have cherished what little time he had left of what had become a normal life for him. _

_He smiled wryly. "I wish I had more time," he said in a bitter whisper._

_It was so patently clichè it almost wasn't funny._

_Almost. _

_The blond glanced over at his lover, already fast asleep once more amidst the bed sheets. _

_For once, Matt seemed to have the right idea. _

"No police cars," Matt commented as they wandered through the warehouses. "No ambulances, either. I wonder if anyone is still here."

Mello pulled his hood back with a heavy sigh. It had finally stopped raining, but it did little to lighten his mood.

It was already past 2 o'clock now. It was unlikely that Near was still in the area.

Or maybe he was already...

Matt looked up when the blond came to a sudden stop, his fingers pressing deeply into his temple with a look of intense mental fatigue. "What's up?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Nothing," Mello replied tersely, his eyes squeezed shut, his brow furrowed with a frown. "Just...thinking."

The younger man looked unconvinced when Mello finally opened his eyes to look at him. Mello turned away, feeling guilty. He briefly missed the days when Matt was kept at a distance, just like everyone else, the days when he was impossible to read, when he kept himself numb enough to mask everything with violence and intimidation.

"Stop blocking me out," the redhead pleaded as he came up behind the blond, sliding his arms around his waist, his body pressed against wet, sticky leather. "You're worried about Near..."

"I'm not worried about that little fuck," Mello immediately spat.

"You're worried it was all for nothing, then?"

Mello gave a small, defeated groan as Matt's nose tickled his neck.

Yes, he definitely wished he could push it all back with a stony glare, a few crude threats, and a gun to Matt's forehead.

Then again, anger hadn't worked on the redhead before, when he'd plucked that cigarette from his very mouth.

The blond let out a small laugh, despite himself.

It had been such an incredibly _stupid_ move. He didn't need Matt to warn him not to try it again.

Sure, he was concerned about his chain smoking friend, but Matt never nagged him about his obsession with beating Near, joining the Mafia, his rash and reckless actions, his impulsiveness, his chocolate.

In the back of his mind, Mello knew he had no room to talk. Less than an hour ago, he had flipped out the same way Matt did whenever he would tell him they had to cut back on the cigarette budget.

Although, the chocolate budget usually went hand in hand with that.

So, they suffered together.

Mello began feeling guilty all over again. He laughed again, though the sound was far more melancholy.

"What?" Matt asked, pulling back slightly to allow Mello to turn in his arms.

"Nothing, just thinking," he answered automatically. The gamer gave him a disapproving look. "Honestly, this time," he added with a friendly slap to the younger man's cheek.

"Come on," Matt said, nodding towards a metal stairway at the edge of a maze of scaffolding. "Maybe if we get up high enough, we'll be able to see out over the wharf."

He took Mello's hand and began pulling him along up the stairs, their boots making loud, metallic clanging all the way up.

After only two flights, Matt released his hand. "I'll race you!" he shouted before dashing on ahead.

"Matt!" Mello called up to him, keeping his original pace. "This isn't a game! This is serious!"

Matt stopped and leaned over to look down at the blond, slowly ascending the stairs. "Come on! We're fucking dead! You've been serious your whole life! Take a break!"

"Near doesn't take a break," the older man reminded the redhead. "And neither does Kira." Matt was waiting for him only one flight above, arms crossed over his chest, looking disappointed.

"Yeah, and look how they turned out. Near needed your help and Kira's going to end up with the death penalty." He smirked as Mello finally reached the landing he was waiting on. "Not to mention Near will never get laid."

Mello watched as Matt leaned against the railing of the stairway, suddenly striking on an idea.

"I could have said the same thing about you 3 years ago," Mello said with a sultry grin, slowly sauntering towards the redhead, who hesitantly pushed off of the railing, his grin faltering for a moment. "Always with your nose in a game, wouldn't turn off from geek mode for even a moment. You barely ever went outside." He traced a gloved finger over Matt's neck.

"That's because you never let me." Matt laughed as Mello removed his jacket. "What, are you trying to seduce me?"

The blond leaned forward and pressed a fiery kiss to Matt's lips.

His seductive smile turned devious as he pulled back, observing the way Matt's breathing had turned ragged and his eyes went foggy.

"No, I'm trying to distract you." He shoved his jacket into Matt's arms before the gamer could comprehend what he had said and quickly dashed past him and up the steps. "Looks like I'm going to win!"

It only took a few seconds for Matt to catch on. "Hey, no fair!" Heavy, bounding footfalls reverberated from below.

Mello threw his head back and laughed as he ascended flight after flight. "All is fair in love and war, Matty!"

He finally reached the top, leaning against the scaffold railing to catch his breath. He grinned widely when Matt caught up, gasping for air.

"I win," Mello stated.

The redhead tossed Mello's jacket roughly at him before hunching over, his hands on his knees. "You...cheated," he panted with a small smile.

"Guess you should have stayed on your toes," the blond replied matter-of-factly, hanging his coat over the railing. He doubted he would need the garment anymore.

He looked out across the scaffolding ahead of them, stretching across the face of a building overlooking the wharf. Biting his lip nervously, Mello leaned over the railing a bit to look down at the ground beneath them.

Not too terribly high up, but high enough to make him a little apprehensive, high enough to make him hesitate for a few moments before stepping out onto the boards; they creaked under his feet.

He wondered what would happen if he fell.

He could tell by the way Matt was curiously looking over the edge as he followed along a few steps behind that he was wondering the same thing.

"Think if we-"

"I don't know and I don't have any intention of finding out," the blond interrupted testily.

He wasn't normally afraid of heights, but he suddenly felt so open and vulnerable. There was no safety net, there was no solid structure beneath him.

There was no longer any desire to cheat death.

He thought about how many close calls he'd had in 20 short years, how many guns had been pointed at his face, how many injuries he had gotten, how much blood and knives and fists filled his memories. He reached up and gently touched the scar on his face as he halted, his free hand gripping the flimsy railing.

He felt no sensation on the scarred skin. It felt as if his fingers were touching someone else, a different face, a different person.

He was seized by terror at the feeling of unfamiliarity, that his scar was not a part of him, but some sort of parasite, some other alien being within him.

Maybe that was why he never cut his hair straight again, maybe that was why he left it a little shorter on the left, maybe it was why he always wore those huge sunglasses that Matt never ceased to enjoy teasing him about.

"I changed, didn't I?" He muttered. "After the raid," he clarified as Matt gave him a confused look, leaning his arms on the metal barriers. The blond followed suit, the two men standing shoulder to shoulder.

"No, you just grew up," the redhead responded. "It doesn't make you who you are, but it isn't completely separate from you either." He paused, chewing his lip in thought. "It's...your history, I suppose."

Mello laughed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

They didn't have history. They were nobody, privileged nonentities who had no past, present or future. They never existed, they were brilliant minds that were nothing more than tall tales, myths, fables.

"We're nothing, Matt. We don't have the right to histories."

"We're not nothing," Matt said. "No one will remember our names, but they won't be able to get rid of the evidence that we lived."

That was true. There would be video evidence, news reports of anonymous figures who participated in an all out uprising against a new God, autopsies of charred corpses supposedly too mangled for identification, pictures of a body filled with lead being carted out of the street.

There would be memories passed between friends and relations, stories told to the next group of children to pass through the orphanage, graves with blank headstones, names and faces that would remain a dark secret until the tales and recollections faded away.

Matt turned to him with a grin. "_A man said to the universe: 'Sir I exist!'_"

Mello looked down at his hands dangling over the open air. He definitely wasn't enjoying the direction the conversation had turned."_'However,' replied the universe, 'The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation.'_" The blond finished the quote with a despondent tone. "I never said I was happy about it."

Deep down, it had been a source of motivation in his life.

Maybe it had been the only one.

His own parents had thrown him out as if he were worth nothing, he was constantly shoved aside into the number two spot no matter how hard he worked, and he had made the ultimate sacrifice that could never be spoken of, never praised, would never amount to anything of benefit to him.

His whole life, from start to finish, had been built around the foundation that said, "You are worth nothing and will never have a single worthwhile achievement."

And throughout his entire life, he set out to prove that fact wrong.

He gave up the life of a normal child, a normal teenager, a normal adult. While Matt played his games, he was buried in books. While the other children were running around outside, he was gathering materials in the library. While the whole world went about their safe, predictable little lives, he spent his time amidst the most wanted criminals.

Every time he toed the line, every extra inch he pushed himself, every day he worked himself to the bone, every time he reveled in the thrill of dodging the bullets of the law, of Kira, of nature, he was screaming "Fuck you!" to the Universe at the top of his lungs.

He had done it one too many times though.

Was his scar a warning or had he been meant to die that night?

"Matt, if you hadn't been there..." the blond said quietly, eyes cast down, keeping his gaze fixed on the world beneath them, bathed in orange from the sun sitting low in the sky.

"But I was there, so you don't need to worry about it," the gamer quickly replied, sliding his arms around his friend, hugging him tightly.

"Matt," Mello said insistently, trying to release himself from the embrace. "I didn't deserve your-"

"Yeah, yeah, you owe me one." He pulled Mello closer, ducking his head against the man's shoulder to avoid any of the blond's protesting limbs from hitting him in the face. "Now, we're done crying our eyes out over the past."

The struggle ceased as Matt lightly kissed his shoulder, his mouth hovering above the skin for a moment as it pulled away.

It was a plea, the hot puffs of breath from the redhead's mouth saying, "This isn't healthy."

And Mello answered by relaxing in his arms and keeping his mouth shut, glancing back down at the black shadows and sun stained earth.

Something moved in one of the shadows.

Matt glanced up when he felt Mello tense in his arms. "What is it?" The blond pushed lightly at him, craning his neck over the railing.

"There's someone down there," he answered as Matt released him.

It blended almost seamlessly into the shadows, but the clumsy motions gave it away.

It could have been an animal.

Though, when it weakly stepped out into the sunlight, Mello saw clearly that it was no animal.

It was Light Yagami, injured and bleeding, slowly making his way in their direction.

He was a far cry from the picture Hal had provided him. The photo was of a confident, brilliant young man.

The Light Yagami before him now, was ragged, desperate, and desolate.

That didn't help to rid him of any of the anger that suddenly overflowed in him.

"That fucking son of a bitch!" he snarled as he shoved past Matt and began lunging down the stairs, nearly three at a time.

He could hear Matt calling after him, telling him to wait, to stop, but the cries fell on deaf ears as Mello skidded to a stop on the ground in time to see Light stumble into one of the buildings, one hand clutching his shoulder as his arm flopped uselessly at his side.

The blond followed as fast as he could, his arms pumping at his side as he dashed down between the darkened buildings, his brain throbbing as all the blood in his body suddenly took up a frantic pace. He knew Matt was trailing far behind, he knew he wouldn't be able to do anything once he caught up with Yagami.

He didn't care.

If the bastard was going down, whether through death or the law, Mello wanted to be there to see it with his own eyes.

There was a trail of blood passing through the door of the building, heavy drops of red splattered on the dingy, grimy floor.

Mello followed the trail, the feral smirk on his face growing ever larger as more and more blood marked the floor. Kira was going to end here, in a smelly, dirty, disgusting wharf, hiding like a dog.

The God of the new world had truly fallen from his pedestal.

That thought alone brought him endless delight. Perhaps he really hadn't died in vain.

He rounded a corner and came face to face with the sight of Yagami sprawled out over a staircase, just like Matt had been, hunched and bloodied against the side of his car, just as he had been, draped over the steering wheel of a pathetic delivery truck.

He was no God. He was a pitiful, disgusting, murderer hiding behind the rationalization of justice.

He laughed as he stepped closer, a harsh and cold sound that bubbled from his lips. "How does it feel, _Kira_? How does it feel to know you're scum, just like the rest of us?"

The man remained still, obviously unaware that Mello's specter was present, staring forward with bleak eyes that seemed to hold an air of remorse. He laughed again and turned away to follow the dying man's gaze.

The laughter died immediately, turning into a startled choke.

L was standing there, staring down at Yagami's form on the steps.

Mello had only met L once, back when he was very, very young. He barely remembered the instance, could not recall why they had met, or how, or on what terms.

But he remembered the man.

He hadn't changed a bit since then. He was still hunched, still had the dark, errant hair, still had the deep, empty eyes with the dark circles beneath them. Those eyes still instilled the same fear and frightful wonder in him as L turned away from Yagami to stare straight into his eyes, past his eyes, to his very core.

He took a step back and suddenly slammed into someone. He spun around quickly, to see Matt standing there, staring at L with a look of total awe.

"Is that..." he began softly.

Mello turned to look back and wished he hadn't.

He grabbed Matt's hand and began dragging him roughly away.

"Mello!" Matt exclaimed as his hand slammed against one of the walls near him to keep himself from tumbling over. "Mello, was that-?"

"Shut up, Matt," he snapped, his voice breaking, his steps rigid and tense as they followed the path of blood back outside.

He was trying desperately not to break down, but the look in L's eyes kept slamming itself jarringly back in the front of his mind.

L should have been happy, he should have felt victorious that Kira had finally been brought down and true justice had been restored.

But the look in the man's eyes had been one of complete and utter defeat. There was no trace of happiness to be found in his eyes, not a single shimmer of victory.

It wasn't about justice.

He squeezed the redhead's hand even tighter at the thought.

L and Light Yagami had been friends, _equals_.

Had L been lonely before he met Yagami?

Would Near be lonely now? Would he have the same look in his eyes that L and Yagami did?

The moment Mello blundered out of the building and into the sunlight, he turned and threw his arms around the redhead, gasping for air, feeling his lungs suddenly tightening in dread. His head spun uncontrollably, clutching at Matt as if his entire being depended on it.

Tears fell from his eyes as Matt clutched back, sobs and unexplainable laughter mingling in a cruel and bittersweet fashion.

"I love you," the blond gasped.

He poured as much affection and thanks into the three small words as he could, hoping that Matt could hear how grateful he truly was that his best friend and lover was there with him, that he had been at his side no matter what, that he never ceased to forgive him, to believe in him, to love him.

How grateful he was that he didn't have to suffer alone.

He couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine being separate from the only person who truly understood him, who truly cared for him.

"I love you, too," Matt responded in a whisper.

Mello leaned over to kiss the redhead when an intense burning sensation consumed him, as if his entire body was aflame, and the wharf and Matt evaporated into emptiness. He inhaled sharply in pain and coughed raggedly, soot and ash flying down his throat and into his lungs, his tears drying up on his skin in the overpowering heat. His hands grasped uselessly at thin air, his feet left the ground, and he was falling back into the dark abyss.

Then, it was over.

He was back in Matt's arms, leaning heavily against his figure as his body shook and trembled.

It was so pleasantly warm now. They had left the wharf. Mello could feel soft earth under his feet, a gentle breeze through his hair.

It just felt so...light, as if he would simply lift off from the ground and take to the sky at any moment.

Matt was gazing at him with a wide smile, his eyes bright and relieved. The blond was too shocked, too startled to ask where the hell they were, what had just happened, why everything felt so completely perfect.

The gamer slid his gloves off and threw them aside before cupping Mello's cheeks and kissing him. The hole in his palm was gone.

"So, you kept it," he commented, running his thumb over the scarred flesh. "I'm glad, it proves that you aren't nothing."

Mello laughed softly, leaning back towards his lover to murmur against his lips.

_Matt jerked awake when he felt the bed dip down beside him. "Come on, Mello," he groaned automatically. "In a minute, I'll get out of bed."_

_He opened his eyes in surprise as Mello slid an arm over his stomach and buried his face in his neck. He looked down the bed; the blond still had his boots on. _

_He smiled sleepily and patted Mello lightly on the back. His muscles were tense and shaking. "What's wrong?" he asked._

_The blond was silent for a few moments before he answered, burrowing his head deeper against the sheets and Matt's skin. "How are you so calm?" He pressed closer to the redhead, as if some of his placid mood would rub off on him. _

_Matt shrugged, rolling onto his side to bring Mello closer to him and look him in the eye. The pools of green were fighting not to fill with tears."We're doing it for the greater good, right?"_

_The older man looked away, seemingly unhappy with the answer. _

_Matt knew there would be no answer that would satisfy the churning feeling that filled both of their stomachs. _

_"Were you happy?" Mello asked abruptly. He was blushing a little, trying to hide it by pressing his cheek against the pillows. _

_"I'm...happy now," the redhead responded, a bit confused._

_"No! I mean, were you happy living like this?!" Mello pushed himself up onto his hands to look down at Matt. He hated not having the upper hand when he was emotionally vulnerable. "Didn't you ever want to just be..." he paused, searching for the right word. "Normal?!"_

_Matt smiled a bit, which only served to worsen Mello's mood. "Normal is boring," he commented. "I'd rather die happy with the amazing, abnormal life I've lived than regretting the millions of lives I could have lived." He propped himself on one elbow. "Besides, the way I see it, we've got three options. We go to Heaven together, we go to Hell together or..." He trailed off, noticing the panicked look that darted across Mello's features. "Or, nothing. It just ends."_

_The blond glared at him for a few moments before collapsing onto his back beside him. Matt inched over, kissing up and down his neck as he stared at the ceiling. "I feel like I'm giving up, like I've lost."_

_"It's alright, Mello," the redhead reassured him. "People have been dying successfully for millions of years. I'm sure we'll be fine."_

"Well, I guess it wasn't such a failure, after all."


	5. Epilogue: The Final Note

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. If I did, I wouldn't have to worry about writing this annoying disclaimer over again.

* * *

Epilogue - The Final Note

_"Hey, can we go to the funeral?"_

_"There is no funeral."_

_"Can we just stop by? _Please?_"_

_"...fine, let's go."_

* * *

Halle Lidner shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the car as a breeze blew in through the open window with a whistling noise.

It wasn't the silence that made her nervous, nor was it the fact that they were waiting in the middle of a cemetery, nor was it the obvious fact that she was the only member of the SPK besides Near who opted out of visiting the unmarked grave that Rester and Gevanni were currently standing so respectfully before.

It was the fact that, for once in the entire time she had known him, the pale haired boy sitting beside her with his legs drawn up to his chin and his temple leaning against the window was not actively involved with one of his toys. His hands rested, unmoving, in his lap, a Transformers toy laying limply in his palm. He stared out the window, his gaze unfocused and unseeing.

It was a rare moment of a lapse in Near's concentration.

Halle glanced over at Near for a split second, seeing too much of Gevanni's disapproving look in the boy's reflection on the window.

That had bothered her too, that she was practically being ostracized for not wanting to salt her own wounds.

She had known Mello for such a short time, but his death had cut her deeper than she had expected it to.

In her line of work, it was best not to dwell too much on these sorts of things.

So, she sat in the car in the unbearable tension that the new L was unwittingly creating.

Or perhaps he was fully aware of it.

She wondered what would be worse, being out there and risking losing her cool in front of her coworkers, or staying in here and risking losing her mind.

"I sometimes wonder if it's my fault," Near suddenly uttered, causing the woman to jump slightly. "If I had moved more quickly, perhaps he would still be here."

At first, the blond woman had been thankful for a break in the silence, but the topic Near had chosen only served to intensify the anxiety.

"None of us could have stopped him," she responded.

It was her default answer. No blame at all. It was all Mello's choice, all Mello's doing, all his fault.

She wasn't going to linger on what she may or may not have done to change the outcome.

"Lidner," he said, turning to look at her. "You should not feel sad. Mello is still here. He and I can never be apart." He lifted his hand to reveal the Near and Mello finger puppets resting on his index and middle finger. He twiddled the digits and puppet-Mello and -Near wiggled back and forth. "He is dead, but death is unavoidable. We are allowed to mourn, but you should focus on what you liked about Mello instead of the fact that he is no longer here with you." He turned away, eyeing the puppets with a small smile. "There is a rule of the notebook that isn't complete."

Rester and Gevanni returned, climbing back into the car, looking solemn. "Are we ready to go?" Rester asked, looking back at the two in the back seat with the rear view mirror.

"No, give me a second," Lidner blurted out, trying to get out of the car as fast as possible without looking frantic.

She closed the car door and stood stupidly at the car for a few seconds before making her way off the dirt road and through the headstones, back to the blank stone marking a pair of anonymous graves.

What had Near meant? Was he trying to hint to her that Mello had escaped? That he was still alive?

It wasn't possible. There were two bodies beneath the soil of the unmarked graves, seized by the NPA as a favor to Near.

Was he really trying to insinuate that Mello lived on in her memories of him? It seemed like something too ordinary for Near to say.

A firm wind rushed past her and a few locks of hair suddenly flew in front of her eyes.

She halted, reaching up to pull them back and froze suddenly.

She immediately turned to walk back to the car, still breathing shakily in shock when she got back in beside Near.

The woman turned to look at the young man next to her for some sort of reassurance, of confirmation.

He was paying too much attention to his toys to even glance at her.

"You alright, Lidner?" Rester asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

She smiled as the corner of Near's mouth turned up slightly.

"Two of them, actually."

* * *

_All humans, will, without exception, eventually die._

_After they die, the place they go is MU._

_Mu is a Koan, a paradoxical Zen phrase that means neither yes nor no, it stands for the knowledge that we do not possess, a knowledge that we have not yet formed of our own opinion._

_Therefore, Mu is not a state of being, but an answer that looks beyond a firm reality and instead observes that which we know to be true ourselves from our own experience._


	6. Final Author's Notes

Final Author's Notes

Geez, I really thought that the author's notes would write itself, but I see that's not the case. It's difficult to gather together all my thoughts of this fic.

When I started this fanfiction, it was a desire to say "goodbye" to both Matt and Mello whose roles in Death Note were cut so terribly short. But, it grew into something quite personal as I kept on writing and ultimately, something of an emotional release.

I've been writing since I was about 10 years old and I never felt satisfied with my writing until this.

I can honestly say this is one of the best things I have ever written, if not the best.

And I have a number of people to thank for making this fic what it is.

Now, I know many of you may simply scroll through and disregard these thanks. However, I am adding them to these notes because this fic wouldn't even be finished if it were not for these people. I owe a great deal to them all for keeping my spirits high and my imagination flourishing.

I tried to keep the lists as short as possible so I wasn't bombarding you with overly long lists, so doubles are not written. Many people are on all three lists, but if you are on more than one, you will only appear on the one of the lists.

First of all, I want to thank the people who added this fic to their alert list.

Thank you to:

FyireChildesDream  
Nanashidesuka  
Riku-Aura777  
TheMorganScore  
YOURMOMONTOAST  
temari34

Secondly, I'd like to extend thanks to those who favorited this fic:

AnnAnde  
Implied Slash  
JigokuHana  
Maia White  
MelRose19  
Misao Oni 4 ever  
Saigocage  
Samantha-chan  
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aruslym  
haly mane  
izzumi-chan  
tenamanda1988  
twentyfiveraven

Lastly, I want to give very special thanks to everyone who provided input and reviews:

SlvrSoleAlchmst1  
Konfektxcosplay  
Demon Hiei's Girl  
00-angel  
helishlygood  
thinlimitation aka mellomafia  
narni4eva  
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Ezmereth Moriquendi aka divinefanaticy  
Kiogy  
M4rshMell0  
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Trinny Dream  
Rim Greaper  
EmoAndTheSpazz  
Fullmetal-Tora  
Shima-ru  
flamablechoklit  
AngeloftheOdd  
theminion2001  
misericord  
theandmoose  
mrsjeevas

So, this fic was...I don't even know how to describe it. It was almost like starting over for me. My writing had been failing for I don't know how long before I started this fic. I was completely lost and aggravated before I began writing Part 1.

I'll be upfront with this, this isn't my first Death Note fic that I've written or my first Matt/Mello fic, but it is the first one I wrote seriously. I had one that's still sitting untouched that I worked on for about a month.

I wasn't ready at that point though. I hadn't learned enough about Matt and Mello to really be prepared to write a fic about them. This was almost a "coming of age" sort of thing. This marks that I have at least a basic understanding of the characters and their personalities. They are real people and real people are not simply one way or another. Both Matt and Mello have a delicate balance of understanding and frustration, of kindness and violence, of maturity and immaturity. Finding those balances is part of the key to success in writing a Matt/Mello fanfiction. Without it, it's a very difficult task, nearly impossible, to write about these two.

I finally decided I was going to write, even if it was only for myself. Part 1 was never meant to be posted or read, because I simply wasn't proud of my writing anymore.

Even so, when I was done, I kept reading and re-reading and I was like, "Wow, this is alright. I suppose I'll post it to . Couldn't hurt, right?"

Honestly, I was expecting that it would get a few hits, maybe a review or two and then simply fade back into the shadows and I'd move on to something else. Even so, as the days passed, Matt and Mello kept growing in my head and I continued to write, with the intention of taking it on to the very end, just so I could say I had finished it.

The moment I saw how many people were basically telling me it was one of the best things they had ever read, I was in disbelief. I had never been told anything so kind about my writing before. I was absolutely blown away. Every time I would read a positive review, I would get shy and flattered. There were a few that made me squeal in delight, especially those from people like mrsjeevas and SlvrSoleAlchmst1, two fanfiction authors that I really do admire. narni4eva and thinlimitation were two users I found in the process of writing this fic that I came to adore and their reviews left me completely speechless. I'm so grateful for everyone's input, but those four really left a big impact and impression on me, so much love to you guys.

This fanfiction quickly went from being for fun, to something I felt I had to do, something I wanted to do for all the people who wanted to see and know more.

I've never had solid writing habits, but they were immediately formed when I sat down to write this fic every day. I found relief, love, and immense inspiration in music.

I was never a believer that music could really help someone write, because it had never helped me before. It was a lifesaver for this fic though.

Part 2 was my favorite to write, because it was such a relaxed and leisurely section. I felt free to explore the shaky transition from violence back to friendship between the two and even give a little peek into Matt and Mello's childhood and how they had met.

More than once, I struggled with tone and dialogue between the two of them, especially in that chapter. I knew the more rash and loud side that Mello had, but it was difficult to figure out when it would emerge and how.

I also had trouble with Matt's temperament, how far he could be pushed before he put his foot down, how he responded to his best friend.

I've read countless interpretations of these two and I was determined to create my own, but in the end, I think I just combined them all together and toned them down or up a notch or two.

Language was also a bit of an issue.

See, I'm not British, but I was writing British characters. That fact did not escape my mind, and I'm sure there are some Brits out there who are reading the dialogue saying, "That's not what they would say" or something like that.

I was tempted once or twice to read up and study British slang and speech, but I knew, at the end of the day, all I could do was write what I knew and felt. If I had tried to write them with British speech, it wouldn't have come out honestly and would have lowered the quality. So, I do hope I can be forgiven for my Americanisms.

I've also read numerous versions of Mafia Mello and I was on the border of making him the heartless killer that many people seem to see him as. But after re-watching the anime a few times, I took in the entirety of the situation.

Mello was only about 16 or so at the time. He's a teenager, with no parents to educate him, probably nervous, out of his element, and desperate to get to the top with virtually nothing to work with.

At that age, probably having had only Roger to look up to as a father figure, he was in a very dangerous position, and he probably knew it.

Joining the Mafia seemed more of a necessity than a choice and the only people who acted as role models to him were killers.

He seemed more disturbed and distraught, putting up the cold front as a defensive mechanism to protect himself emotionally.

As far as Matt's smoking habit went, that was also one of the more difficult aspects for me to deal with. My father was a smoker when I was a child and he quit because my mother and I kept getting sick from it. So, needless to say, my view on smoking is less than accepting.

However, I took a tip from mrsjeevas, that Mello is not a rabid anti-smoking crusader and that Matt does have a nicotine addiction. Both elements were extremely unfamiliar to me, because I am against smoking (not to the point that I nag people I don't even know, but I do express concern for those close to me) and I have never dealt with smokers and their habits before. Still, I forewent my whole honesty approach for this and tried to make myself as neutral as possible about it. Mello didn't care, so neither should I.

I had no real ending in mind when I began this fic. I mean, I had one, but nothing very solid or even remotely planned out. After watching the very end of the series, that rule of "The human who uses this note can neither go to Heaven nor Hell" kept bugging me. I mean, I'm a firm believer that Light did not want to kill L because he viewed him as an equal and a friend, the only person who could really understand him on the same level. But Light saw Kira as a self sacrificing figure, someone who would somehow find the strength to kill even his best friend in order to further justice.

Yes, I do believe that Light and L were friends. They found someone who could really relate to them. They stood on opposite sides of every issue, but their thoughts and thinking process were the same.

So, since L never used the Death Note, he would still be allowed to go to Heaven or Hell, whereas Light would not.

It was a perfect contrast to Matt and Mello, who were, thankfully, not forced to be apart.

And finally, the dreaded Mu rule.

At first, I had every intention of simply ignoring the rule and writing it the way I wanted. But then I realized that it would be working against me. I was writing the story as accurately as I could to the series. To simply disregard that rule would be a major flaw in the story line.

I ended up doing some research and discovering that Mu does not really stand for nothing. As the epilogue says, it's a paradoxical statement. The entire description of it is quite long and can get a bit confusing, but I suddenly discovered that one could still proceed to Heaven even with the Mu rule.

Because Mu is actually not a place or a state of being, it simply means that which cannot be answered.

Part 3 was extremely difficult to write, especially the second half of it. Matt seemed so vague to me as to how he felt about religion and how he would treat it. I knew by the end he might have accepted it, not necessarily completely, but at least acknowledged it. His feelings towards Mello and his way of practicing Catholicism also seemed very far away. It took me a few days to finally formulate it in my head, that Mello is a very strict Catholic and Matt is a very casual person. He seemed the type to be made anxious about memorizing prayers and rituals. Being a person who normally underachieves, the thought of having perfection demanded of him seemed a bit off-putting. It took a very long time, at least a week and about 7 rewrites to finally get Part 3 to the way I wanted it.

The statements that Matt makes regarding Heaven being perfect and that people have been dying successfully for millions of years are quite meaningful to me.

I must admit, that I did not come up with those ideas on my own.

Jacob, my very best friend, is the one who told me these things.

My relationship with Jacob really helped me to write this fic, because he happens to be an atheist, whereas I am a Catholic. The dynamics regarding religion between Matt and Mello are influenced by the dynamics between Jacob and myself.

The epilogue was my favorite to write next to Part 2, simply because it was a refreshing change of characters. I never ceased believing that Hal played an important role in Mello's life shortly before he died and that Near honestly held very little ill will towards Mello.

I was excited especially about writing Hal, because she seemed so open for development and characterization. I was worried about Near because I really couldn't get inside of his head. It was almost as if he wrote his own lines, popping up unexpectedly in my mind.

There were numerous "deleted scenes" for this fic. Not because they don't relate to the story or because I just wanted to keep some things to myself. I deleted them for one of two reasons.

1) They distracted a bit from the main plot and really didn't meet the standard of quality I wanted  
2) I planned on using them for a different story

Which brings me to the next topic.

This won't be the last you hear of me as far as fanfiction goes. Hopefully that will make you cheer rather than cringe. lol. I'm currently working on a second fanfiction, a sort of prequel or companion piece to Beyond. I'm also working heavily, sort of on and off, on an AU fic as well. If all goes well, both will be up soon for you to read.

On that note, I'd like to thank everyone who read this fic and stuck with it until the very end. I immensely enjoyed writing it.

Thank you to everyone who have helped me out along the way, including thinlimitation, narni4eva, mrsjeevas, and SyberiaWinx. If I've forgotten any of you, I'm extremely sorry. You may message me and complain. Haha.

Until next time,

Catmoongirl

Final Disclaimer: Death Note was written and illustrated by Ohba and Obata. It does not belong to me.


	7. Beyond

A/N: I _promised_ myself I wouldn't do this, but I did it anyway. I couldn't help myself though! I didn't know what else to do to thank you all for accumulating almost **3,500 hits** for this story! So, I decided to write a little bonus chapter for all of you.  
There are a few reasons I avoided adding onto this. One, I had no idea of what things would be like "beyond" it all. Two, I do not like writing L. By that I mean I really don't know him very well, so it's hard for me to write him and feel like I did it satisfactorily. Three, I think this chapter is just pure feel good-ness and I have this awful tendency to write things that are bittersweet or tragic. But I really did want to write something sweet and happy.  
And now, before I forget, I must thank those of you who reviewed for the final chapter.  
So, thanks to mellomafia, miseri-cord, and the-and-moose from the lj community. And thanks to Living in a fantasy, Thingbe, Trinny Dream, SlvrSoleAlchmst1, Konfektxcosplay, Demon Hiei's Girl, 00-angel, hellishlygood, narni4eva, SyberiaWinx, Sake1, NothingFromNowhereImNoOneAtAll, Myrah, iA N G E L Alchemist, Demonic Seraphim, Songfic Misstress, twentyfiveraven, tenamanda1988, and thinlimitation.  
I was really touched by many of your reviews and comments and I was brought to tears more than once because of all the people saying that they didn't want it to be over and I didn't want it to be over either. Hence, why this was born!  
Enjoy! As always, **please read and review!**

For everyone who's been a part of this, whether from the very beginning or from the moment you read this,** thank you!**

Disclaimer - Seriously, I don't own Death Note. I've said it five or six times before. I still don't.

* * *

Part Thank-You Bonus - "Beyond"

"He was quite right, by the way." Pale fingers gestured to an equally pallid cheek as green eyes, intense in concentration, glanced up at the statement. "It's quite befitting. The rule of a hero is that he must have scars to display his escapades in war."

Mello frowned slightly, fingers plucking absentmindedly at the grass. "You don't have any." He felt almost irritated when the dark, deep eyes staring back at him blinked once, twice, unchanging, unaffected. "You're a hero too, you know."

A very faint smile graced the older man's lips. "Heroism is possibly one of society's most primitive concepts. A man may save a thousand lives and be called a hero. But if he fails to save a million more, he becomes a coward." He plucked another cherry from the pile sitting between Mello's legs. "In order for a man to truly become a hero, he must work unceasingly to do the impossible, he must continue to face down foe after foe and overcome fears and limitations that the world is too afraid to challenge." The cherry disappeared between his lips and the stem was tossed aside. "For a man to remain a hero, he must die in the midst of his heroism."

The blond frowned. "That's...the way the world sees it." He stared back down at the cherries, red and ripe and absolutely perfect to eat, so perfect he couldn't resist taking one himself. "But I think the true mark of a hero is to be admired by a handful of people who truly know you than a world who simply wants more. You were a hero to the world. You still are." He blushed, his cheeks almost as red as the fruit he bit into, stripping the flesh from the pit until there was nothing left. "You were a hero to all of us, to every single kid who came through there. Near and I, we worked hard because we admired you."

The pits were spit out into the distance. "Mine went further," the dark haired man insisted, smiling playfully. Mello hesitated arguing back, realizing that he had never once imagined such a child-like expression from the man beside him. "If I had said such a thing when we met, there's no doubt your answer would have been different."

The younger man shrugged in agreement, prodding his scar experimentally. "Things like death and justice and faith tend to change a man."

"And it transformed you, from an innocent, clever child, to someone of even higher calibre than myself."

Mello tensed visibly at those words, straightening defensively. "Don't say that!" he snapped, eyes blazing with warning.

Then the moment passed and he suddenly realized who it was he had just yelled at.

L blinked slowly, another cherry pressed lightly to his lips, preventing Mello from being able to determine if the man was smiling or frowning. "Is it too painful? This is how you will be for the rest of eternity, nothing can be changed about it. Is it really so bad to know that you've finally achieved what you were reaching for?"

"Yes, it is!" Mello exclaimed, restraint suddenly forgotten as he sprang to his feet. The orange glow of the sun against his hair set a shimmering halo about his head and L observed the phenomenon with a smile. "Because it's a fucking lie! I can't have _achieved_ anything! "

"But the moment you perished, they had your spot ready." L made his way slowly to standing, leaning forward to prod the flowers braided discreetly into a hidden lock of blond hair. "That's why you have amaranth on your head."

Face flushed, Mello closed a hand around the braid and shoved it out of sight. "Matt did that! That woman who always talks to you taught him how. That's got nothing to do with any of this!"

L pressed his thumb just past his lips, nibbling gently at the tender skin. His eyes, wide and searching, had seeped through Mello's defenses when he wasn't looking. The blond could almost feel the man thumbing through his each and every thought. "And what about the fact that Matt is here with you? Is that an achievement?"

"Y-you've been watching us ever since I left Wammy's! All I managed to do was hand over the victory to Near! Matt's only here with me because he followed me!"

The smirk on the L's face was clearly visible now. "It appeared as if you took his hand and led him here, Mihael."

The color that seeped into Mello's cheeks was that of anger, overpowering the delicate pink tinge of embarrassment. "Don't fucking call me that."

"Some might call your behavior ungrateful. I might say that it's hurtful."

The words cut into the blond like a knife and he frowned, quickly looking down at his feet, his ego shrinking rapidly under L's gaze.

He was only three years old again, and L picked him up in his arms and ruffled his hair with a blank expression, though Mello could see something akin to pride beyond it. "You've worked hard, Mihael. It's time to throw your old name aside and be who you died and were born to be. You did what I could not do and what Nate could not do. You've saved the lives of thousands of people across all generations and you've saved a soul. Wear your scars with pride." He set the toddler down on his feet and gave his head a final pat before the hand slipped away and disappeared into his pocket. "I was merely a stepping stone in this era. The uprising that you carried out could have only been carried out by you. Neither I nor Nate are that self-sacrificing. We are selfish beings. I will only do things that interest me, I will not help another if it does not stimulate my mind. Nate seeks the most profitable way to succeed. He has not been taught to feel compelled to satisfy the needs of others." The man frowned and the young Mello clung to his leg, looking upset. "Perhaps that was my own failure."

Then, a hand tapped lightly on L's shoulder. "L, is everything alright?"

L turned, allowing the blond to continue clinging to his pant leg. "Yes, Watari. I was congratulating Mihael on his achievements."

The elderly man gave Mello a gentle smile and laughed as he ducked out of reach of the hand that reached down to him. He was sick of being patted on the head. He didn't want to be congratulated. Not like this. It was _embarrassing_.

Watari produced a slice of decadent cake seemingly from thin air and handed it over to L. "Would you like to go and visit Miss Kenwood, L?"

Pursing his lips around the desert fork, frosting clinging to the corners of his mouth as the cake quickly began to disappear, the man nodded slowly. "Yes, I've been eager to speak with her. She invited me to take a swim with her yesterday." He gently dislodged Mello from his leg and gave him a wave of farewell before departing with Watari at his side.

The moment he was out of view, out past the large oak tree in the distance and into the valley where Mello knew there was a lake full of crystal clear water and fields of flowers and fruits and things that were so picturesque, he wondered what it really was he had done to deserve it all, he was 20 years old again.

He stood alone in the dusty peach and purple hues of dusk, breathing heavily and so fraught with confusion and pride that he was unsure of what to do with himself. His gaze wandered across the horizon, nearer and nearer to himself until he spotted the cherries on the ground.

'Take 'em to L. He might like them.'

"Matty..." the blond murmured warmly.

He left the cherries sitting there, dashing out across the field, away from the valley and towards the hills where he knew Matt was waiting for him.

It was growing cooler, the sun was setting. It was never cold, it was always pleasantly cool. There were some children out, trying to catch lightning bugs in their hands before releasing them to the sky again. He passed by a woman and her husband, watching the sunset together. They waved to him as he passed. He had only met them once when L had introduced them, Naomi and Raye. Kira victims. They all seemed to know one another here.

Matt could hear him coming long before he reached him. His head popped up from the tall grass growing on the face of the hill and he waved happily to the blond as he approached.

"How's L then?" he asked as Mello knelt down beside him, panting lightly.

Mello never answered. Instead, he leaned over and kissed the redhead deeply, pressing forward until they both fell back into the grass and it was tickling their arms and legs and neck. "You're brave, Matty. You're admirable, you know that?"

Matt blushed deeply, running his fingers slowly through the soft blond hair. "Nah, I'm not that admirable. I just go where I'm told. That's not-"

Mello silenced him with another kiss and his eyes seemed to shine like precious gems for a moment in the quickly fading sunlight. "But you trusted me enough to simply go where you were told. You never doubted me."

"Only a few times, when you weren't being honest," Matt admitted with a grin.

The blond gave him a quick peck before sliding off and cuddling close against Matt's side. "We did it, Matt. We made it."

Mello heard the younger man yawn widely. "No," he said, shaking his head. "You made it. I told you, I don't care about where I end up, as long as it's with you. Whether it's first place or last, I just want it to be like this." His arm tightened possessively around Mello's waist.

He gave a small smile as he buried his face against Matt's neck, twirling his finger around the short braid in Matt's hair, decorated with vivid blue forget-me-nots. This was what he wanted, no matter if it was in Heaven or in the fires of Hell.

He was here with Matt, and they were heroes.

And waiting in each others arms were the Elysian Fields.


	8. What Is Unseen

A/N: Everyone in the MM fandom knows what today is. I've been in the fandom for about a year and a half now, and I have to say it's been one of the most enjoyable rides I've ever had. I know I had a poll up about this chapter and that I NEVER got to it. Consider this my apology, you guys. Thank you so much to all of you and everyone who's stuck with this fic from the very beginning or who stumbled across it by sheer luck. Beyond has reached 9,448 hits thanks to all of you!  
A special thanks to my reviewers, who are Saigocage, SyberiaWinx, Melissa, twentyfiveraven, thinlimitation, tabby-chan, Shikirou, parasitic, rayrayluver, Trinny Dream, Elvye, Kermitfries, CallMeClandestine, xLolitaHolocaust MOVED, Nusura Miku., Ravens Bane, bloodmuffins, NoirFoxy, Zilander Kat, AngelWhoIsNotASerialKiller, BrittMarie, darkrose821, 17629578269, pontchar-train (who was awesome and put Beyond on one of her rec lists!), Lily and Shadow, Maddasahatter, vegetaworshipper92, FanFictionFangirl, Josephine Falnor, Nicha The Purple Ghost, and jrenee07.  
In the week or so leading up to today, I had no idea what to do. I had already made peace with Matt and Mello's death through this fic and I found myself more reflective than sad that the end of their lives was fast approaching. My first thought was Hal, the woman closest to Mello still left on Earth. I wrote about three or four versions of this chapter before I finally settled on this idea, and I was glad that I let it come to me naturally than trying to plan it all out.  
I hope this final chapter will help you all get through today and see it as a very happy time as well as a very solemn one. As always, enjoy and please read and review.

RIP Matt and Mello

Disclaimer: I still don't own Death Note. I know, crazy, right?

* * *

Part Memorial Bonus - What Is Unseen

On the morning of January 26th, 2011, Hal Lidner woke up, went out to her kitchen, and sat down to write a letter.

She had debated writing it last night, but decided that she would end up thinking on it all night and inevitably going back to correct it later.

That wasn't what she was writing the letter for anyway. It had to be spontaneous, uncensored, each thought written as it came.

She wanted it to be honesty in it's purest form.

She used a pen, and she didn't use more than one page. She started the coffee maker just before sitting down and by the time she was finished, the pot was full. After she had signed her name at the bottom she walked out into the living room, plucked a single, well-worn novel from the bookshelf (from between The Art of War and The Republic), and then returned to the kitchen.

The book was a special one, but she didn't mind giving it up. Not today. And maybe it was time. Time to let go.

It had been a year now since Mello died. A year since the path he had carved out into her life had been left empty and vacant. And each day she woke up, that emptiness drifted just a little further away.

The first few weeks she'd cried once or twice, but she wasn't much for tears. Near had been able to tell what was going on in her head though.

Sometimes, she thought he was more aware of other people's feelings than he let on. Or maybe it was just more of his logic, that he had been able to deduce her emotions using the five stages of grief, or her body language, or simply her behavioral patterns.

Or maybe it was because Near missed him too.

She had heard him talking to himself once or twice lately, but she had been working for "L" long enough to know that he just wasn't the type to think aloud.

Hal set the book down on top of her letter and folded the paper over each of the four sides. She used a small bit of tape to secure it and a length of twine to hold it all together.

It was actually snowing today, she noticed when she looked outside.

It might last longer that way, she thought as she held the book in her hands. The forecast had called for freezing rain.

Satisfied with the package in her hands, she went about her morning as usual before leaving the apartment with the book and letter tucked under her arm.

Hal had never been very religious and was completely of the opinion that death was the ultimate end. She didn't believe there was really a Heaven or a Hell, but after what she had seen that day...

Well, she wasn't entirely sure _what_ she had seen.

She thought she'd seen them, Mello and his accomplice - his _lover_, she finally realized - standing together at their own graves, arms wound around each other and heads tilted together. But then they had flitted away like leaves on the wind, leaving nothing but a vague smell of leather and smoke behind.

It could have all been in her head, it could have been part of the stages of grief. Bargaining or denial or..._something_.

Of course, it was always likely that she was a touch insane. Dealing with two Wammy's kids at once seemed likely to have that effect.

Mello had mentioned the redhead only once in the time they knew each other, and it was only in passing. She wouldn't have even recognized him if she hadn't seen his body when they'd been handed over by the NPA. She hadn't expected that he was the one driving the car that night.

She felt her stomach give a slight lurch of guilt as she rolled to a stop at a red light. The package sitting on the passenger's seat seemed to be giving her a reproving look.

She had been unable to stop Mello from the start, that much she knew. He was like an asteroid hurtling through space. Unstoppable, undeterred, flaring brilliantly in the sky, but ultimately burning up and disintegrating in the atmosphere.

The light turned green, but for a moment, she let the car sit.

She had never really thought about it before. Meteor showers were nothing more than bits of space rocks burning up into nothing hundreds of miles above the Earth. People sat out on their porches and wished with all their might on each streak of light, and as they did, each one disappeared forever, never to return to the sky, never to fly again.

Of course, they were only flying from her perspective. To them, they were drifting, neither forwards nor backwards, up nor down. They only time they were honestly flying was just as they began to burn up.

They couldn't fly unless they burned up.

A car honked it's horn impatiently and Hal zipped through the intersection. Her tires sent up a wave of brown slush onto the sidewalk as she passed. It was still snowing lightly, but it was getting warmer. It would probably rain tonight.

Matt...Matt didn't have to die. There was no reason for it. But she hadn't known. Everyone in Mello's plots had been pawns, everyone had always been expendable.

Except for Matt. And she had sent him straight into an ambush.

He had died alone that night, in the middle of the street. Mello had died alone too.

But, then again, everyone dies alone, right?

The cemetery was empty and most of the graves were covered in thick mounds of half-melted snow. The blank stone marking Mello and Matt's grave had been cleared off, though, and a bar of chocolate, an old Super Nintendo game cartridge, and a little Lego Mello had been placed on top.

Hal smiled warmly. Near and Rester had already stopped by.

She didn't stay long and she didn't say anything while she was there. She didn't need to say anything. Everything that needed to be said had been written in her letter. All that was left was to send it off and get on with her life.

She left the parcel at the foot of the grave stone and drove off.

As night fell, the rain turned to sleet and snow, and soon the package was completely hidden by the heavy mix.

When the maintenance crew came through a few days later, there was nothing but a grave marker underneath the snow.

* * *

Another wave of cool water swept up the beach, immersing Mello's feet and calves before being pulled back out into the ocean again.

The blond sighed and wiggled his fingers a little in the warm sand. If he moved his right index finger enough, he could almost brush against the soft skin of Matt's thigh. The music from his DS rang cheerfully in the air.

Contrary to popular belief, they _did_ have video games in Heaven.

Though, the best part was that if Mello didn't want to listen to Matt's stupid game music, he didn't have to. He just simply had to..._think_ about it, and then _poof!_ No more music, and Matt was free to enjoy himself.

It was still a difficult concept to grasp, that just thinking about something could make it happen. But you had to _really_ want it to happen. You had to be willing and unafraid.

You had to _trust_.

He opened his eyes and found the sun shining down on him. The blond raised his hand to shield his eyes and turned his head to look over at his lover.

The redhead kept his eyes locked onto his game, the tip of his tongue sticking just slightly out of the corner of his mouth. He'd been getting a lot more sun lately; his skin was finally starting to take on a gentle peachy hue.

"Can't you put that away?" he asked, raising himself up on his elbow. "I thought this was our 'us' time."

Matt clicked his tongue and grinned, never once looking away from the screen of his DS. "You're such a girl." Mello gave him a sharp poke in the arm and the gamer laughed at him, as bright as the sun, as warm as the sand. "Hey, you were the one who ran away to _work_ during our 'us' time."

Mello scowled. "Well, what did you expect me to do? Just sit around?"

"I expected you not to play Ghost Whisperer with Near."

The blond fell back onto the sand again, pouting. "You know he can't solve that case without my help. He said it himself, he and I can't surpass L by ourselves. If I _can_ go, why not?"

Matt let out a groan of frustration, switched off his game, and gathered Mello up into his arms, all in one smooth and fluid motion. "There, are you happy now?"

Mello blushed a little and ducked his head to hide it. "Yes," he muttered quietly, burying his face against the redhead's neck. He could smell the salt air and the sweat in his hair, and the lingering aroma of cigarettes.

"Good, because you totally owe me for yesterday. I had to spend the day cooking with Naomi and that Kenwood lady."

Mello snorted against the curve of his neck.

"Those two can work miracles with pastries, but it's just weird listening to two women talk about the best move to disarm a guy instead of makeup tips and-" Matt suddenly cut off, stiffening against him.

Mello looked up at his lover. Those rich brown eyes were narrowed and staring intently out at the unending ocean. "What is it?"

"There's something else out there," the redhead muttered.

Mello sat up and turned to look and just as his lover had said, there was another large bottle floating through the water towards the beach.

A small wave gently washed it onto the shore at Mello's feet. He looked a little guiltily over at Matt. "There's nothing for you," he said softly.

The younger man scoffed, leaning over to get a better look at the new arrival. "So what? I already got what I wanted." He waved his DS by his head. He still wasn't sure how he'd managed to make the original Super Mario Bros. work on that system, but one moment it had been a large cartridge and the next it had been a tiny card. "Come on and open it already! I want to see what it is."

The blond frowned and picked up the bottle from the wet sand. It was a large bottle this time, with a rectangular, paper-wrapped parcel inside. The last one had been small, containing only a bar of chocolate, and it had been made of sea green glass. This bottle was a pale blue, thicker, with a large cork in the top.

He used a nearby rock to crack the bottle open. The glass shards fell to the ground and sparked amidst the sand, until the tide swept in and carried it away, back into the ocean.

He held the package curiously for a moment, feeling its weight, wondering what it might be. Then, he pulled shyly at the twine until it came undone.

The wrapping fell open and Mello blanched.

"_Broccoli Love: A Steamy Affair_?!" Matt read the title of the novel aloud before bursting out in a fit of laughter. The cover of the book was even funnier than the title: some buff, oiled Fabio look-alike in a chef's hat moving in to kiss the fuck out of some scantily clad woman with erect nipples. As if that weren't bad enough, a pot of broccoli sat steaming on a stovetop behind them. "What the hell is that?!"

"_Hal_..." he muttered embarrassedly, clapping a hand over his bright red face. "She must have sent this." Mello tried to shove it away, but Matt was faster and snatched up the book before he could object.

The redhead was already flipping through the pages when Mello noticed that there was writing on the inside of the wrapping.

He unfolded it and flattened it out against his thighs and began to read.

_Dear Mello,_

_Today marks a year since the day you died. It seems neither happy nor sad, but that's to be expected, isn't it? The world will keep on its way today, because it will never know what happened a year ago. _

_Near told me to focus on what I liked about you rather than the fact that you're gone. _

_I'll be honest: there is very little I liked about you. _

_Thankfully, liking and respecting don't have to go hand in hand. I did respect you, Mello._

_The only time I ever liked you was when Mello fell away and Mihael came shining through. This book is the one thing I have of that person._

_I don't need that memory where I am, but I thought you might enjoy it wherever you are. _

_I found this quote written on an ad stuck under my windshield one morning. Maybe it's fate or maybe it's a stupid coincidence. But the point is, it means something specifically because of you. _

"For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." - 2 Corinthians 4:17-18

_- H_

_P.S. - Tell Matt I'm sorry for what happened. I really would have liked to have met him. _

Mello was on the verge of showing a very emotional and weepy side of himself when Matt started to snicker beside him.

"This book is _great_," he declared as he thumbed through the chapters. "Listen to this-" The redhead cleared his throat and began to read. "And as he stirred the hollandaise sauce sensually, she felt a longing growing deep in her bosom." Matt screwed his face up and began talking in a grotesque falsetto. "'_Oh, Marcello, I'm growing so hot! And I don't believe it is from the oven!_' And as Marcello swept her into his arms, he kissed her deeply, running his hands over her _voluptuous_ curves." He lowered his voice and grabbed Mello around the waist, speaking hotly against the blond's ear. "'_Oh, my darling Giselle, you are sweeter than even the richest chocolate sauce_.'"

Mello made to snatch the book away and Matt fell onto his back, arm stretched far over his head to keep the book out of his lover's reach. "Give it, Matt! It's mine!"

"Why do you want it so badly, hmm?" The gamer grinned lecherously and his arm snaked around Mello's hips to grope at his ass. "Admit it, you imagine yourself as Giselle, don't you?"

"I do not!" Mello lunged to try and get at the novel and ended up with a mouthful of sand.

"How the hell do you stir something _sensuously_ anyway?!"

It wasn't the book that was particularly important, it was the feeling. The letter had left a warm tingling at the tips of Mello's fingers, a distinctly Hal-like feeling, and he just wanted to hold the book for a moment, feel that energy finally reach the end of the circuit.

Hal was...Hal. It was difficult for Mello to imagine her as anything else. She was one of the few people she could call a true friend, though it was a different sort of friendship from the one he had with Matt.

He could trust Hal because she was a woman. Not because she was _feminine_, but because she was _not_ masculine. Hal's femininity and her being a woman didn't seem to connect in Mello's mind when he looked at her. But she was the softness in his harsh surroundings, the yin to his yang, the opposite side of the coin. She was the bridge between Near and himself, the only one that hadn't truly taken sides.

She was not quite a mother and not quite a sister.

She was just Hal.

Mello finally managed to grab the book from Matt's hands and he scrambled back up, hugging it greedily to his chest. Matt was still laying on the sand, clutching his sides as he slowly recovered from his bout of laughter. "Why would she give that to you?"

The blond gave a little smile and traced over the edges of the cover with his fingers. He felt the warmth connect and thrum and then drift away on a sea breeze.

He remembered plucking the book off of her bookshelf once and teasing her for it. Not the sort of teasing that he used against his mafia thugs or the other Wammy's children. It was more intimate than that and less malicious. He recalled how free he felt, to be able to converse with her about something other than Kira, other than plans and schemes and notebooks of death.

It was like having a glimpse into a world that might have been.

The sun was beginning to set and Matt leaned over to rest his chin against the blond's shoulder. "You want to go back now." It was a statement, not a question. He knew what a sunset meant for Mello.

Mello nodded and got to his feet, taking Matt's hand to help him up. They smiled at each other and Mello leaned over to kiss him softly.

He felt the redhead's lips turn up into a grin against his and then the book was plucked from his grasp again.

"Chase me, Giselle!" he exclaimed before dashing up the beach and towards the dunes.

He stopped just a few steps up the incline and turned back and Mello was looking at seven-year-old Mail Jeevas sticking his tongue out at him, clad in his worn-out black and white striped shirt and his patched up jeans.

Little Mihael ran after him, nearly tripping on his pants that were two sizes too big but never giving up.

The letter sat on the vacant shore until the tide, deciding it was finally time, came in and swept it out to sea and carried it off to some unseen place where all undying memories go.


End file.
